


Fallen Kings and the Same Old Things

by bookcases



Series: The Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes Collection [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 131,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24576334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookcases/pseuds/bookcases
Summary: Continuing the journey with Atlas Holmes as she begins to understand what it is like to be a Holmes. And begins to understand the cost.BAD LANGUAGE THROUGHOUT
Relationships: Mrs. Hudson & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Mycroft Holmes & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Mrs. Hudson & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: The Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776367
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Samuel Alexander "Sammy" Walters

**Author's Note:**

> It is possible to read this without having read the first in the series "Violin Strings and Awful Things." However, it will most likely not make much sense. 
> 
> I have plans for another series too called "Lockdown in 221B" to reflect how the four of them would cope with lockdown. These will most likely be written independently. Some with and without my original character.

A few weeks had passed and Atlas was back to her normal self. Infact they all were. Atlas remained touchy when asked about the events but everyone avoided asking her the questions she would rather not answer. However, one night late, Atlas stalked into the kitchen for some water a book furtively kept between her fingers. The light remained off, to be the least disruptive as possible. She was still fully clothed, having sat on her bed and been reading since she went to bed. This was an often set of affairs as her bedroom light could often be seen on till around one to two am and nobody ever said anything. It was crucial to part of her, she needed this time to herself. 

Just as she was putting her tea bag into her yellow mug the light switched on and she jumped about five feet in the air. 

"Are you okay?" A half-asleep voice asked and Atlas swivelled one her feet lightening quick. It was John, disheveled and tired standing in his pyjamas and robe. A hand went to her chest in visible fright and John smirked. "Sorry."

"It's alright." She replied, before filling the kettle and switching it on. "I'm fifty pages off." The book was waggled in the air before being dropped down onto the bench again as the kettle boiled. 

"Fair enough." John smiled before coming into the kitchen properly. He collected a glass and filled it with water before looking over to her. "I haven't asked any questions about...you know." He said quietly. "But I just have one. Why did you shoot her?" 

Atlas sighed, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the bench. She really didn't want to answer this question right now. "Why are you in here?" She asked sweetly, trying to jump topic.

"Your dad had a nightmare." There was a pause of discomfort in his voice. "About me and the morgue. But anyway..." he sighed. "Stop dodging my question."

"Why does it matter?" Atlas asked before looking at him like he was stupid.

"You shot her Atlas. A seemingly innocent-"

"She was the instigator." Atlas whisper shouted in return. "Why do you care anyway?" 

"I don't know because it's not something an average sixteen year old would do." John said exasperated, concern flooding the lines of his face. "Ever."

"Just leave it then." Atlas retorted, staring at him intensely. 

"Atlas." John said quietly, a hand reaching to her shoulder but never making contact. It lingered a thoughtful moment before dropping back to his side. 

"No! Just leave it." Atlas whisper shouted again, he voice raising slowly. "You shouldn't care." 

"Why? Why shouldn't I care?" John whisper shouted in return looking at her with sparkling blue eyes. He looked like he was going to break down. 

"Oh I don't know. Maybe because your not my dad!" She shouted back, her eyes going wide in realisation of what she had said. Her legs carried her backwards before she pulled on her jacket and darted down the stairs. Her phone left behind on her bedside table. 

"Atlas!" John shouted this time making his way to the top of the stairs. "Its the middle of the bloody night." But it was too late, she was out the door and John ran a tired hand over his face before returning to his partner. He wouldn't tell him, that could be messy. Besides, its not like Sherlock would sense the tension and if he did, he wouldn't be able to figure it out.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS found herself in a bus shelter at four am. Dimly lit the world around her slowed down, only an occasional car passing to remind her where she was. Her purse hung heavy in her pocket as she thought about walking to Uncle Mycroft's but he would be asleep by now. There was Molly, but her and her partner were probably planning a date night. Then again there was also Lestrade but Atlas had never thought to ask where he lived. So she stayed, in the bus shelter for a further ten minutes.

"This is normally my spot." A blonde haired boy said, as he came into the shelter and sat down. It was now that Atlas realised that the timetables were all from 2005 and she realised it was unused. Atlas shot him a look as the other boy sat. There was silence for a while.

"Gunshot, stab wound or spectacular car accident?" Atlas asked after a whole of assessing him.

"I'm sorry?" He asked looking at her confused. Her blue eyes made out that his were green through in the light before she looked ahead of herself.

"Your father." Atlas said quietly. "Was it a gunshot, stab wound or spectacular car accident?"

"Oh, car accident." He replied quickly. "Five days ago. On impact." His head dipped between his shoulders and Atlas looked at him.

"Sorry. Wasn't really my place." She said quietly, looking back up to meet the boys gaze. "Bit not good." She said under her breath. However, the boy looked at her evidently knowing. 

"Something my dad says to me or my other dad when we do something that's not good behaviour." Atlas said quietly before she looked directly ahead of her again. The boy didn't respond for a little while and Atlas added. "Normally, by this point, I've been called a freak, beaten up or spat at." He looked at her seriously before holding out a hand for her to shake.

"Samuel Alexander Walters. People call me Sam or Sammy." He said before Atlas took it and smiled. That was a good starting point considering She'd read nearly everything she could off this boy. 

"Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes. But people call me just Atlas." Atlas said taking the hand and shaking it. 

"Hang on. Do you mean?" Sammy began Atlas nodding once.

"Unfortunately." She replied.

"No. He's cool." Sammy said before Atlas looked at him skeptically. "Oh and by the way. If your looking for a friend, I am too right now. Job's going." He smirked causing Atlas to do the same. "Come on, Monday morning rush hour starts early in London. We'll be able to get into some coffee shops will open within the next hour and a half." He said before providing her a hand. The light was just coming in and judging by the traffic it meant that it was approximately 4:30am.

"Where are we going to?" Atlas asked as her new found 'friend' who she didn't believe would last long led her round some paths and onto what she believed were the outskirts of the city. There he led her round the back of a fence before they both vaulted it easily.

"What-?" Atlas asked suddenly as she looked up at the derelict building.

"Just come to the roof with me." He said before taking her hand and leading her up some stone paths and wooden planks. She noticed how he knew which ones were the safe ones to tread upon as they made their way up through the building. It smelt old, dusty and worn as they made their way up. He led her through some doors and up onto the roof. 

"Put your feet exactly where I put mine." Sammy said hoping over certain planks before coming to stop on the ridge. Atlas did the same before taking a seat directly next to him. They sat in silence and realised their ascent up the stairs took more time than they had realised and now the sun was beginning to rise over the city. It was spectacular, the sky painted in every colour imaginable as the head peaked over the first sets of houses on the horizon. Sammy took a snap with his phone before looking back at Atlas.

"Didn't take mine." Atlas admitted quietly as she rested her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together in contemplation. 

"Your the first girl who hasn't thought I'm trying to hit on them by taking them up here." Sammy laughed as he kicked at a stone with his shoe. 

"Well your gay so I don't care." Atlas retorted smirking before her face fell.

"Your pretty damn cool." Sammy laughed as Atlas let out the breath she didn't realise she'd been keeping. "So how come you were in my unused bus stop?"

" _Your_ unused bus stop?" Atlas laughed before sighing and looking to the ground. "I fell out with one of my dads. Not Sherlock. His partner John. My pa." Sammy's mouth formed an 'o' before looking at her.

"How bad?" Sammy asked looking at her.

"I said he wasn't my dad." Atlas whispered tears pricking at her eyes, she swiftly brushed them away looking straight ahead. 

"I said that to my dad before his spectacular car accident." Sammy said regretfully. "Too late to take it back." 

The sun was now rising faster than Atlas ever realised it could as they spoke more about their history. Their families. She learnt more about Sammy; how his mother worked at the primary school Rosie would be attending soon; that his biological father was not in fact the man in the car accident but someone else who he never knew; how he loved the man who died as a father; how he was expected to be attending the same sixth form college as Atlas. Atlas told him much about herself, something telling her he could be trusted. She was incredibly good at spotting liars, being able to do it effortlessly herself.

"Book & Beans." Sammy said rising to his feet, Atlas catching up as they made their way down. "You been?"

"Ha ha. Very funny." Atlas smirked. "Yes. After meeting my dad for the first time in seven years I told him I'd be there if he wanted to speak."

"Hm." Sammy said as theh began to make their way along the pavement. She didn't think that her parents would be too worried about where she had gotten to she was a Holmes after all. She'd been needing someone she could trust of her own that she could vent to. 

_She needed a Watson._


	2. Assert Your Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter was low key an Irondad and Spiderson inspired moment lol.
> 
> And greetings if your new!
> 
> Also, just so your aware If Books & Beans is showing like Books & amp; Beans then I don't know why. It just is. Please look past this as i don't always spot it.
> 
> Welp.

ATLAS and Sammy were sat opposite each other in a little secluded booth at the side of the coffee come book shop.

"I like it in here." Sammy said after he's sipped a little bit of his coffee and bitten into a Danish. Atlas was eating a croissant and sipping coffee too when he asked. She'd given him some money to buy his coffee, he'd come without any change.

"Me too. Something peaceful. That and I love books so it's quite nice." Atlas replied smiling at him, pinky finger stirring in her luke warm coffee.

"Don't suppose you'd like to go on a shopping trip with me?" Sammy asked looking at Atlas. "Only, I'm in dire need of some new clothes that are my style. And you seem like the perfect person to help me assert it. So whaddya think?" 

"Okay." Atlas sparked, smiling. "Sure."

"But first I need to go home to change and get money." He said smiling, Atlas looking at him.

"Well I need to change and get my phone. We could go with each other or split up?" Atlas asked, tilting her head at him.

"Together. Let's go together." Sammy smiled before collecting his jacket, Atlas doing likewise as they left. 

"You live further from the centre than I do." Atlas remarked before she smirked at him. They stood outside the coffee shop before collecting themselves and falling into step with each other. Atlas said that she could pay for a cab but he insisted that from where they were it wasn't far. 

"Wow." He said quickly before exchanging a look with him. Atlas and him began to walk towards his house, him taking the lead. Of course, Atlas may be smart but she wasn't clever to figure out where people lived and If she were? She certainly wouldn't make a habit of it.

As they approached his house Atlas hung back to admire the trees he had in his front garden. They were beautiful pink cherry trees just on the cusp of blossoming. She stood on the paved pathway and looked up at them and every little thing about them.

"You coming in?" Sammy asked, popping his head out his front door. Atlas looked around her before giving a nod and following him in. The hallway was genuine, everything was genuine including Sammy himself. "Mum!" The boy shouted suddenly, making Atlas jump before giving a smile to her new friend. "I'm going out with a friend!"

"Samuel, don't be silly. You don't have friends." His mum joked from what Atlas assumed from the kitchen before she appeared and took in the girl. His mother somewhat frowned before suddenly smiling, Atlas producing a hand.

"Atlas Holmes." She said gracefully as she pushed her glasses up her nose some more. Her red jacket only had one patch of blood on it, which was remarkable considering she had slit a man's throat while wearing it. 

Note to self: just for the love God, try not to mention anything that might corrupt him.

"Leanne Walters." The woman said taking it, Atlas reading her like an open book before scolding herself for doing so. _Bit not good._

"Nice to meet you." Atlas smiled before looking to Sammy who looked at her briefly. 

"I'm going to change. Mum, do not interrogate Atlas. She's cool. And besides," He said firmly. "The first girl to think I wasn't hitting on her." His mother gave a laugh before he darted up the stairs.

"Now you don't happen to be related to the detective are you?" His mother asked, Atlas being filled with an air of uncertainess as she contemplated an appropriate answer. Her father had made enough enemies to kill her several times over. "Only, my late husband went to school with him. That's all."

"Oh." Atlas replied. "Uh yeah. I'm his daughter."

"You look like him." She remarked before looking over to the living room behind Atlas. "How come you didn't think he was hitting on you?" She asked but before Atlas could answer she added. "Only every girl thinks he's doing some sort of flirtatious dance and not realising he's as gay as a rainbow on a roundabout." 

"Deduced." Atlas said quietly, she looked up. "That and my dad's got a male partner." Atlas looked like she had just told a secret, even though she knew it wasn't really. 

"Don't worry. I won't mention it. Not my place." Leanne reassured before Sammy finally appeared. He wore an eccentric set of clothing and makeup that looked like a makeup artist had done it.

"Alright my rainbow." Leanne said, Sammy reeling back as she attempted to plant a loving kiss on his cheek. Finally he gave in before they could leave.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

On the cab ride (which Atlas had insisted upon) to 221B Baker Street, Atlas explained how her dad may be an egotistical jerk and her pa may be a protective father. Or that it could very well be the other way round. She hesitated to mention Rosie but did so anyway, Sammy nodding. 

Just as they approached the door she looked back at him.

"We also have a dog called Redbeard. And a landlady called Mrs Hudson." Atlas explained before opening the door and taking Sammy inside.

"Atlas?" Mrs Hudson said coming out of her kitchen and into the hallway. "Deary me." She sighed upon seeing the girl. "I heard you and John having an argument last night." The woman looked tired before she filled Atlas in on what she was doing that night. "Up watching late night telly." _Very late night telly Mrs H. Very late night telly._

"I'm not telling my dad or Rosie about it. So could you? You know." Atlas said, Mrs Hudson smiling before nodding allowing Atlas to go up the stairs. Sammy hot on her heels.

"Oh also." Mrs Hudson shouted up the stairs causing both of them to turn around. "I'm thinking of getting a cat. A little bit of company. Would Redbeard be alright with it?" She called.

"Yes." Atlas replied before continuing up the stairs. The sounds of her dad playing violin echoed through the flat and she smiled quietly to herself before opening the door. Sherlock didn't turn and Rosie and Redbeard didn't look up from where they were sat looking at the geographical map of Portugal.

"Morning dad." Atlas said, her father turning round and looking at her then straight at the boy.

"Before you interrogate him...he's gay. Not my boyfriend. And not part of my non-existent sex life." Atlas scolded, her father still frowning before she put a hand to Sammy's shoulder.

"Try not to ask him questions and pray to God my pa gets up soon." Atlas said into Sammy's ear, before starting off for her bedroom, not even having to tell Sherlock what she was off to do.

"So." Sherlock said placing his violin in his case, the bow neatly being unwound and put on the top.

"Sherlock." John said taughtly, coming into the living room after his shower. "Who's this?"

"Sammy Walters." Sammy said producing his hand to the man who had just appeared. _John Watson._ He assumed before realising that Atlas had referred to him as pa. The one she fell out with or something. "I'm a friend of Atlas." 

"As of last night." Sherlock quipped eyeing him up suspiciously.

"Sherlock." John said cautiously, causing the taller man to soften his exterior slightly. "John Watson." He said taking Sammy's hand and shaking it. "You've already met Sherlock." 

Sammy nodded once before glancing around the room. His eyes went to the yellow smiley, the bullet holes, the skull on the fireplace, the tidied experiments on top of the kitchen cupboards, the case files on the desk, the piano, the knife on the mantelpiece before back on Sherlock Holmes himself.

"As I said to Atlas. You guys are pretty cool." He said withdrawing his hand and looking over to Redbeard and Rosie who were sat next to each other, Rosie colouring in now. "She's very cute and I must say. I'm a huge fan of your blog, I think the things you've both been through and done are pretty amazing."

"If only more people thought like that." John said before making his way into the kitchen. "Maybe we wouldn't all have been shot barring Rosie and the dog." 

Sammy looked to Sherlock who shook his head and held his hand up. He knew it wasn't John's fault that he didn't know Atlas' hadn't told her friend.

"I'm ready." Atlas said reappearing before looking between Sherlock and Sammy.

"You were shot?" He questioned, Atlas sighing. Not quite how she wanted to start her day out with her new friend. She slowly lifted the shirt she was wearing to reveal the scar from her bullet wound before pulling it back down.

"That psycho mother of mine." Atlas said before collecting her stuff and leaving with Sammy. She would have picked a fight but the air was already thick with growing tension. 

They darted down to the bus stop and caught a bus into the centre.

"So where'd you wanna go?" Sammy asked, Atlas who shrugged.

"Your the one who needed to assert your style." Atlas laughed before Sammy smirked in return. "We'll go to the big Debenhams or something. We start there." 

"Alrighty tighty." Atlas said, her and Sammy exchanging a look before bursting out in tearful laughter. "Why did I say that? That was so cringeworthy." There was a brief pause. "Hey I told you my birthday, when's yours?"

"January 5th." He answered Atlas giving a little smile.

"That's a good date because I can't forget it. My dad's the 6th." She answered before they made their way into Debenhams. "Also just tell me your mobile number right now."

"Okay." He said before saying it to her, Atlas storing it in the appropriate places in her mind palace.

Sammy bought a few items whilst Atlas bought a black long dungarees dress. They scored shelves across central London before finally ending in a charity shop that Atlas had dragged Sammy into. There she bought a pair of bright yellow converse, a blouse that she could wear under her dungarees that was loads of blue birds, a record player and records. She supposed she could ask John or Sherlock if either of them had any that she could borrow but she already knew Mrs Hudson had offered them off to other people. She smiled to herself as she looked at all the things she had gotten under a bargain. Her and Sammy were friends and she smiled to herself. _Friends._ They were _friends._

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎• 

ATLAS appeared through the door promptly at 7:42pm after saying goodbye to Sammy and making sure that he had enough money for a return cab.

"Hello?" Atlas said quietly as she entered the house. Sherlock and John were sat with each other on the sofa, a blanket over their legs.

"Hey." John said as he looked up from the TV before adding. "There's some leftover spaghetti that Mrs Hudson made on the side." Atlas was surprised and somewhat scared by John still choosing to care. She was confused as to why he would care so much and the tension began to build again. Swifty she deposited her things in her room before coming back into the kitchen. She heated up the food in the microwave before wading over and sitting on the floor by her dad's feet. 

"Sammy's nice." Sherlock said, Atlas nodding as she watched whatever movie it was with them.

"Did you put Rosie to bed?" Atlas asked as she chewed at the pasta.

"Yeah. At 7." Sherlock explained, Atlas nodding into her pasta. When she finished it she went over to the side in the kitchen. She collected 'To Kill A Mockingbird' and went over to the bookshelf. There she put it on and retrieved 'Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn' in exchange. The TV in the flat was a constantly changing thing. Sometimes it was behind John's chair, sometimes it was by the window but most of the time it resided in the middle of the room on a TV stand that - of course - had wheels on it. 

"I think I'm going to bed." Atlas said before turning to leave. She looked back to John once, he didn't look at her and she felt some sort of sadness overcoming her.

"Oh, Atlas." Sherlock said as she stopped in the hallway. "Me and John have to go out tomorrow. Do you think you can watch Rosie for most of the day?" 

"Yeah. Uh sure." Atlas responded before looking at Redbeard and disappearing through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here again folks.
> 
> Alrighty tighty.


	3. It's Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp. 
> 
> Enjoy.

"WHAT do you want to do now?" Atlas asked Rosie who sat contemplatively at the kitchen table in 221B. John and Sherlock had left like they said they would, with no promises of when they would return. Mrs Hudson was just downstairs incase they needed her and Redbeard was lying in the dog bed in the living room. So far they had painted and coloured in, among other things and they had just eaten lunch.

"Could we bake?" Rosie asked sweetly, looking at Atlas with those big blue eyes. She blinked a few times before Atlas gave in, sighing before getting the recipe book off the shelf. 

"Fine." Atlas responded before placing the books in front of Rosie, who flicked through them eagerly. She stopped on a few before she continued to flick through, eventually coming to a decision on biscoff cupcakes. A while ago Atlas made sure that John and Sherlock picked up the necessary ingredients for baking - on bulk just in case something happens that means they have to stay inside. Bad weather or something like that.

Rosie clapped her hands excitedly before helping Atlas get various ingredients from the cupboards across the room. They carefully managed to measure the ingredients out and get them to the right amounts.

"In here?" Rosie asked, the bowl of flour poised over the top of the bowl. Atlas nodded as the girl put it into the mix, giggling as some of it spilled out beyond the bowl. She teetered on the chair before she steadied herself and giggled some more. They mixed it in, creating the batter before stopping. Atlas then proceeded to put cases in the tray and they filled them up before putting them in the oven. Together they sat in the living room, before Atlas got up and played the piano, Rosie getting up to dance around doing her own version of ballet moves. She played some Chopin Waltzes before jumping over to the contemporary world of Einaudi.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

DOWNSTAIRS, John and Sherlock walked into 221 to the sound of music and laughter. The case had been a child, a dead child. They thought they could get there in time but it was too late. Seven and a half years old, female and dead. Before her life had even begun and John and Sherlock just wanted to see their children, who were alive and well.

There was a shrill cry of laughter, before another and a concerning stop of the piano before a final cry. A cry. Not of laughter, of pain. Before loud crying and some shushing. Both men exchanged a worried glance before they went up the stairs at speed. They jumped every two steps before they went into the living room and stopped abruptly. Rosie was sitting on the floor, a gash to her head - near the one that she attained in the lodge incident - her arm cradled in her other one. She was crying huge sobs and Atlas was far off to the side, some sort of fear etched in her eyes. 

"Okay. Okay." John said going to Rosie immediately, who continued to cry some more. Atlas then sat back down at the piano, pencil in hand, scribbling down notes on the sheet music. Sherlock assessed the situation, unable to figure out what had happened, before going over to Rosie. Unsure of what to say to Atlas - regale or comfort. Rosie had insisted to him that something was going on between John and Atlas, Sherlock being unable to see it.

"Looks like you may have broken that arm of yours." John said, only causing Rosie to wail some more and order Sherlock to get some tissues to wipe at the blood above her brow. "Atlas? What happened?" He asked the girl still scribbling on the sheet music.

"Atlas?" John asked again gently. 

"Atlas!" Sherlock shouted from where he was handing John some tissues. The young girl looking at him in shock, pencil still in hand. "What happened?" He asked quietly.

"I don't - I - I dont..." Atlas said before looking around the room, avoiding their gaze. "I don't know." 

John lifted Rosie up and Sherlock collected the car keys. Atlas stayed sitting where she was, disappointed gazes hanging in the air. 

"Your supposed to be able to deduce." John said bitterly, Atlas reeling as she realised it was about time she was served some harsh words from John. 

"John." Sherlock said from the top of the stairs, the other man hurriedly leaving. Atlas left to herself, the dog and the final beep beep of the cooker alarm. She rose to her unsteady feet and put it behind her before taking the tray out the oven and looking at them. They were perfect and now she made the topping, singing more of her own songs to herself.

There were miscellaneous thoughts through her head as she made the icing and crushed some more biscuits to sprinkle on top. She thought about all the things she had done that had caused various problems to the people around her. Her seizures were a problem - no less frightening to Rosie, her behaviours were often not good, she was needy. Suddenly, in that moment she hated herself more than she ever had. Ashamed, she realised she may have taken advantage of them, of both of them. Using them because they were there, because she need a home, because she needed support.

The clock was ticking by and she put the cupcakes to one side before looking over to the dog who was lying weirdly. She managed a little laugh before looking around the room. It had just gone four and she thought she would pick up 'Vanity Fair' and continue it. She curled into John's chair and read several chapters before Mrs Hudson bustled up.

"Would you like something to eat?" Mrs Hudson asked as she came into the room. "I have some mince and dumplings just cooked and I've made a little much." Atlas looked up and then to the clock and read it had gone seven. She often did that, get lost in a good book. "Sherlock messaged me to say they would be a while, she had to get an x-ray or something." Atlas nodded once before putting down her book and getting to her feet. "John messaged me with something similar, he seemed worried." _Both of them messaged Mrs Hudson. Why didn't they message me???_

"You can bring the dog down. His bed is still at the side of the kitchen." Mrs Hudson said before Atlas went down the stairs and sat at Mrs Hudson's kitchen table.

"You and John haven't fixed things, have you?" Mrs Hudson asked, Atlas looking down to her plate.

"No. Uh, we haven't." Atlas replied gravely, before looking up at Mrs Hudson, tears creasing in her eyes. Mrs Hudson looked at her kindly.

"Whatever it was over, I'm sure it can't be that bad." Mrs Hudson said, pushing the mince around her plate a little before scooping it and eating. She gave her Mrs Hudson smile, that seemed to warm Atlas through. 

"I shot someone." Atlas said sharply, Mrs Hudson's eyebrows raising impressively fast. "When we were at the lodge we were taken to a facility or something. Long story short I shot someone. John was asking why, I told him to back off."

"It was the middle of the night." Mrs Hudson said, Atlas nodding once.

"I said that he shouldn't care, because he isn't my dad." Atlas said quietly, looking at her dumplings like they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"But he is. Isn't he?" Mrs Hudson spoke quietly before looking at Atlas softly. Atlas gave a little nod, Mrs Hudson placing a hand over Atlas' reassuringly. Then an idea came to mind that might help change the subject. "Anyway, I was having a look online for rehome cats and was wondering if you would help me. The RSPCA have a few here in London." 

Atlas' eyes smiled and before long she was nodding eagerly and following Mrs Hudson to her computer. On the monitor there were three tabs open at three different cats and Mrs Hudson had been sure that they were all dog friendly. 

"Lala." Atlas said, reading aloud the name of her cat before proceeding to move onto the details. Black and white, female - all the cats Mrs Hudson had selected were female and small. Small for a cat of her supposed age of four and a half. The next cat was "Babushka", tabby and younger. Two to be exact and looked like an absolute handful. But Mrs Hudson said she needed something to occupy her time with. Finally, "Jem" a female rag doll, seven, blue eyed and fluff, fluff, _fluff._ Atlas sat contemplatively with Mrs Hudson before getting up and pacing the room. She walked around before sitting back down next to Mrs Hudson, taking the mouse and clicking open the tab with the blue eyed ragdoll.

"This one." Atlas said before Mrs Hudson nodded, agreeing that it was the one she liked the most as well. "Older cats don't normally get rehomed, even though seven isn't that old, but still..."

"I'd be doing a kindness." Mrs Hudson finished for her as the young girl nodded semi-enthusiastically. Mrs Hudson smiled before typing out a wordy email to the centre, requesting they reserve Jem and that Mrs Hudson would visit in a few days.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS decided to stay downstairs with Mrs Hudson for most of the evening. They sat on her sofa watching some sort of Indiana Jones re-run - apparently Mrs Hudson had been a fan when they were readily coming out. Atlas had a mug of tea poised in her hand, the dog lying sloppily over her feet, Mrs Hudson on her right. 

It was late when Sherlock and John came in, Rosie's head lolling on John's shoulder from a late night and painkillers. Sherlock following up the stairs after John, only pausing when he heard Atlas speaking from downstairs. He retreated in search of the girl he really needed right now. 

"Atlas?" Sherlock asked, making his way into Mrs Hudson's living room. Atlas, having told Mrs Hudson what had happened looked at her. 

"I'll be up at the end of this." Atlas said, her eyes remaining on the TV screen. 

"Okay." Sherlock said, carefully reading his child. _Marks on face. Been crying. Unlikely to have been crying at film. Disappointed. Confused._

_Alone._

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE clock came to beep precisely at 6:34am, the time she had chosen to set the night before. It changed every night, the numbers significant to mood as she swung her legs out. Sighing, she placed her feet on the ground and rose to her feet. She did everything she had to before going into the living room, typing into her phone.

**_Samuelllll, I need a friend. AH_**

**_Why do you sign everything AH? SW_ **

**_You just did it too. AH_ **

**_Shut up. It's not even 7am. SW_ **

**_I know. How come your up? AH_ **

**_You think I went to sleep? SW_ **

**_😂. Anyway, I want to make music and it's too tense. Your house cool? AH_ **

**_Not this morning. My sister who somehow you didn't deduce has two friends over for a sleepover, we could meet at B &B and go to the library? SW_ **

**_10 cool? AH_ **

**_9 is better. SW_ **

**_Okay. I'll bring my violin. AH_ **

Atlas shut off her phone and opened the cupboard to find the Weetabix, a few moments later. Atlas had another message from Sammy.

_**Wait. Hang on. You don't know what instrument I play. SW**_

_**Guitar. AH** _

_**🙄😂🤗 SW** _

Atlas laughed before scrolling through her contacts to find Mycroft.

_**I have a friend, Samuel Alexander Walters. Deceased step-father, not in touch with father. Run background checks for me? AH**_

_**... MH** _

_**Please? AH** _

_**Fine. But only because I'd lose my head if you were to die. MH** _

Atlas began to type: I'm not so sure of that. But quickly erased it sending the following instead:

**_Really, its because you love me. AH_**

**_Love? No, its pity. MH_ **

**_Love. AH_ **

**_Pity. MH_ **

**_Love. AH_ **

**_Pity. MH_ **

**_Love. AH_ **

**_Love. MH_ **

Atlas smirked before Mycroft deleted the chat and erased it from ever having existed. She sat at the table, Weetabix swimming in a partnership of milk and sugar as she continued to journey through 'Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn'.

"Morning." Sherlock said - almost always being the first one up - walking in with his shirt and trousers. 

"What's changed?" Atlas joked before it died in the air.

"Rosie's got a purple cast, that I'm under no illusion she will show to you with great pride." Sherlock said, collecting a mug from the cupboard and putting a tea bag in. "Milk. We're-"

"Out." Atlas said quietly, dropping the spoon in the bowl regretfully. She'd thought there was more, she was sure. "Have you-"

"Yes, I looked properly." Sherlock replied sharply, Atlas only shrinking into her seat even more. Chest constricted, suffocation. She felt like she was drowning. Her eyes flitted over the room, landing on some adoption papers. Adoption papers? Her eyes strained to see the names inscribed but she did. She saw them, a pang hitting her chest. Sherlock was adopting Rosie. Not exactly unexpected, she did call him Dad after all. Nonetheless, something was hurting, deep down in her stomach making her feel sick. She was getting left behind again, adding just another thing to the list of things on her mind.

"What about-" Atlas began again before stopping herself and putting her forehead on the table. If the ground could swallow her she wished it would. Right now. Right here. Her throat clogged but no tears came as she didn't look up from the interesting wood grain table. All she felt was a prescence at first, as Sherlock drew a chair out next to her and she heard the crinkle of newspaper. Her hands were clasped over the back of her head as she let out a shaky unwilling breath. A hand rubbed her back before coming to rest on her shoulder and pull her in slowly closer.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sherlock asked in a very un-sherlock like way before Atlas shook her head.

"No, uh....yeah no." Atlas managed to say, still no tears threatening yet. She lay her head against his shoulder.

"I'll just sit with you. Is that okay?" Sherlock asked quietly. His behaviour was marginally different with family, caring and loving. Atlas gave a small nod before Sherlock stayed where he was, the silence engulfing them.


	4. Her First Dead Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Description of a dead child.
> 
> Oooh there's angst too btw.

ATLAS met Sammy in Books and Beans at the arranged time, as they sat and enjoyed their beverages. Pointless chatter surrounded them as they did not hesitate to engage in the same type as well. It was a warm day, Atlas sensibly choosing to wear her new long dungarees dress and blouse. It was now as she sat opposite Sammy that he realised how much she and her father were alike in looks, the violin separating their feet.

"So, we could head to the library?" Sammy said, polishing off the mocha he had ordered. Just then, Atlas' phone pinged and she pulled it out of her pocket.

**_He's clean. MH_**

**_We were heading to the library. AH_ **

**_Closed today. MH_ **

**_Well shit. AH_ **

**_Language. MH_ **

**_Alright, Capsicle. AH_ **

**_Cap-what? MH_ **

**_Nevermind. The library is near yours, we could still head in that direction. AH_ **

**_And? MH_ **

**_Please? AH_ **

**_Please, what? AH_ **

**_Please, Uncle Mycroft, pretty please, can we come and use your library? AH_ **

There was a delay in replying, Atlas looking up to flash a smile at Sammy.

"My uncle." She replied before typing out another message.

_**I'll give you the title of best uncle. AH**_

_**I'm your only Uncle. MH** _

_**Touche. AH** _

_**Fine. MH** _

_**Ty. AH** _

_**Ty? MH** _

_**🙄. Ask Eurus. AH** _

Atlas shut off her phone and looked up to meet Sammy smiling. She rolled her eyes before finishing her drink and looking at him straight.

"We may have a change of plans." Atlas said firmly, looking at her friend. His green eyes shining as she looked at him fondly. She pulled on her red jacket as she collected the yellow tote bag she had brought with her full of sheet music. It was the perfect size to house these items as well as a few other items. "My uncle just informed me that the library is closed." Sammy let out a groan. "But he said we can use his."

"What does he live in, some sort of mansion?" Sammy joked, before seeing that Atlas' eyes were not laughing. "Your serious." Atlas gave a smile before a nod. "Bloody hell, is he a millionaire or something?"

"No, the government and MI5." Atlas replied, before adding. "And I'm not joking with that either." There was a brief pause. "Come on. Let's go introduce you to-"

"The government." Sammy interjected.

"I was going to say, my uncle Mycroft, but the family plus our landlady - who's really an additional grandmother at this point - call him the government." Atlas laughed as they linked arms and tracked down the pavement. Her violin hanging in her hand. As they arrived at Mycroft's they knocked on the huge door before entering.

"Woah." Sammy said before Atlas saw her uncle coming out of the library and to the centre room.

"Hello, Uncle Mycroft." Atlas said, pecking a kiss to Mycroft's cheek, before smiling at him. "This is Sammy."

"Nice to meet you." Sammy said producing a hand to the man who shook it firmly. Mycroft nodded once before leading them to the library. Atlas went to collect a piece of paper and pen when Mycroft stopped her.

"Don't worry too much about writing them down. I know you won't forget about them." Mycroft said before Atlas looked over the bookcase next to Sammy.

"So what's your sister's name?" Atlas asked, looking at him from the side. She gave a little smile.

"Georgia." He replied quickly, as he ran a finger down the spine of 'The Illiad'. Atlas spotted the boxes of new books over to the side, she could smell them.

"You are distributing them!" She exclaimed, looking at her Uncle, then back to the pile of books. They were the new copies of the book she had helped her grandfather edit. She didn't think Mycroft had enough of a heart to do so. Then again she shouldn't be surprised, he was part of the reason her little sister was still walking. Her eyes then went to Eurus who was playing chess with herself in the window seat.

"Morning, Eurus." Atlas said, her aunt looking at her once before going back to her chess game.

"Who's that?" Sammy asked, coming to see what Atlas was looking at as she stood next to a big ornate table.

"My aunt." Atlas said. "She doesn't speak much." Then she lifted one of the books out of the box and handed it to Sammy. "Its by my grandfather, I helped to edit it." Sammy's eyebrows raised before he smiled.

"So an author, musician and genius? What else should I add to that list?" Sammy asked, laughing with smiling eyes.

"Occasional psychopath." Eurus said quietly, still content with the chess game she was playing with herself.

"High functioning sociopath." Atlas quipped before smirking at her uncle, who immediately picked up her reference. They thanked him for the books before leaving the house and trekking the streets. Mycroft had tried to offer them lunch, but Atlas had declined. They would both rather have something simple.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE first they heard of it was a few streets away, however, it immediately attracted the attention of Atlas. Screams of people, the screech of sirens and the shouting of police officers. Likely a minor scuffle, but then she saw Lestrade and his team, driving past in their cars and Atlas knew that it was a big deal. Swiftly, she pulled out her phone to see if she had any messages, none. Sherlock and John mustn't have been called to the scene then.

"Are we-" Sammy began.

"Yup." Atlas replied before they exchanged a smirk and set off for the sounds. Atlas handed her violin over to Sammy who held back by a bench beyond the police tape. She looked around the police cars before making her way over to the tape.

"Atlas?" Greg questioned, weaving his way over to the police tape. Around her, people crowded, a mother screamed and Atlas looked over. A small human body lay, covered by a blue blanket, another larger one to the left. Child. Adult. Or near enough. "What're you doing here? I was just about to call your father and John."

"Heading for..." Atlas said before spotting 'The Lunch Stop' where she had planned to take Sammy for lunch. "There." She pointed at the yellow, glass fronted building before looking back at Lestrade. "Don't call them. They're busy today with a few things."

"That was a lie." Greg smirked before Atlas gave him a look. "Alright, I won't call them. Come and have a look." Lestrade said, before looking over to her friend. "And you can bring your version of Watson."

Atlas gave a laugh before beckoning Sammy to come over. He did so, standing next to her.

"Sammy Walters." The boy said, moving the violin from one hand to another and offering it to shake. 

"Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. You can put her violin in my police car." He said, gesturing for a grumpy looking Donovan to open the car door. After depositing it, he came back over and they dipped under the police tape.

"You don't have to look at the body." Atlas said quietly to her best friend, she pulled on her gloves.

"If your looking at them, then I am too." 

"Alright then." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ADULT male, approximate age of forty, recently widowed. Looks as if he was shot, but you don't need me to tell you that." Atlas said before stopping. "I need to look at the child."

Lestrade nodded once, exchanged a brief look with Sammy before uncovering the dead child. Ginger haired and so young.

"Four." Atlas began before looking at Sammy who looked like he was about to throw up.

"I'll take him." Sally Donovan said before taking the teenager off to one side. A few moments later, Atlas heard him retching, and she closed her eyes regretfully.

"It's normal for people to not be able to stomach it. If I'm right you didn't." Lestrade said, Atlas nodding once before looking back to the girl.

"I've also killed people since then." She said before looking back at the body. Anderson muttering something about her being a freak and part of a freak chain. "Anyway, young girl was poisoned, by the father judging by the state of his finger nails amongst other things. As for who shot him, you might just want to check the mother's fingerprints before she goes to the roof to jump." Lestrade nodded once before Atlas stayed stood next to the dead child. She gave a sad smile, before closing the childs eyes.

"We'll make the arrest. How should I pay you?" He asked, before Atlas gave him a sideways look. 

"The normal way." She replied before laughing. The normal way consisted of a bank transfer of money - not the normal rate - and no mention of it to her father. All those times she was supposedly taking her notebook to the park or going for a walk she was coming to crime scenes.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JUST as Atlas was about to leave the crime scene a boy walked up to her.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch." He seemed to mutter, before Atlas analysed his face. Teenage boy, uncomfortable family situation, divorced...shit. Dead parent. Dead sister. De-

The blow hit her nose with a powerful crunch, blood seeping from her nostrils. He was about to go in for another one when a frustrated Donovan pinned him and sat on his back. Atlas stood, her nose throbbing, watching the boy. She was watching him for more information. Ginger.

"You touched my sister. You dirty bitch, you touched my sister." He yelled, before Donovan knocked the breath out of him. 

"Struggle more and I'll charge you." She threatened, Atlas being fussed at by both Greg and Sammy. Tissues on supply, as the woman who was the mother was bundled into the back of the police car.

"Don't charge him. His father and sister have just died. And his mother's been arrested. Don't charge him. He's grieving." Atlas said before pinning a tissue to her nose, Sammy collected the violin and Lestrade sent a hurried message to one John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

_**Atlas came by a crime scene today. Greg.**_

_**What the hell? Why'd you let her in? JW.** _

_**Why do you think? She's bloody brilliant. Greg.** _

_**Oh God. Something's happened, hasn't it? JW.** _

_**An unruly spectator. One bleeding nose heading your way. Greg.** _

_**Good to know. JW.** _

_**Is everything alright at home? Greg.** _

_**Yes, why? JW.** _

_**Oh nothing. Greg.** _

_**Atlas said something didn't she? JW.** _

_**Greg? JW.** _

_**Greg? JW.** _

And then he sent a message to Sherlock.

_**Dead child. Greg.**_

_**Where? SH.** _

_**No. Atlas saw to it. Greg.** _

_**Alright. SH.** _

_**Be there for her. It's her first dead child. Greg.** _

_**I always am. SH.** _

_**I know you are. Greg.** _

Both Sherlock and John looked at each other, not long after both receiving texts.

"Do we?" John asked. Sherlock shook his head once.

"We let her come to us."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"YOU don't feel light headed?" Sammy double checked again as they walked down the street like Atlas had insisted. Besides, it wasn't that far home from where the incident had taken place. Atlas shook her head once, refusing to tell him about her seizures. That was for another day, and besides a nosebleed was not a trigger. In addition, right now it was not important, and besides they were only doing waves in frequency. At the moment she was in a dip - she hadn't had a grand-mal at all since she had moved here.

"We're nearly there." Atlas said, her head still facing the sky, tissues under her nose. Blood painting the blank canvas.

Outside the steps she waited.

"Thank you. I would hug you but you know." Atlas laughed, gesturing to her bloody tissues. 

"Well here's your violin." Sammy said. "Message me yeah? Or maybe we could face time tonight, I need to get that girl's face out my mind."

"Yeah." There was a brief pause. "Sorry we couldn't go make music." Atlas laughed, before Sammy gave a laugh and waved a cab down. She watched him leave, before opening the lock and treading the stairs. Difficult with a nosebleed and the lightheaded feeling she had said she was not experiencing appeared, as she rolled her neck. She hadn't noticed it while walking with Sammy, but she did now. Slowly, she dropped her stuff in the hallway, tilted her head back before taking a deep breath. She opened the door and entered, taking the creek of the door with her.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sherlock asked, with genuine concern.

"I know Lestrade already told you both. Spectator at a dead child crime scene." Atlas said quietly, before attempting to remove her jacket. It getting stuck on her arms.

In unison Sherlock and John replied with:  
"Dead child?" (John)  
"Nose bleed?" (Sherlock) Before they looked at each other.

"Look it's not a problem. I'm just gonna lie on the floor with my feet on a sofa." She said, finally wiggling the coat off of her shoulders and sitting on the floor.

"Feeling light headed?" John asked, Atlas nodding once. He moved to help her down, but retracted his hand - the change in gesture not going unnoticed by Atlas. In a room full of people she felt alone, her feet propped up on the sofa.

"Aw shit." Atlas cursed under her breath before looking at the ceiling. John, who had sat on the other side of the sofa from her feet, did not look up from the book he was reading. He didn't know what was going on between them, all he could think of that would make her react this way would be their argument. Oh and maybe him shouting at her last night wouldn't have helped. And potentially she felt bad about it happening under her watch. And then maybe the all-seeing observant child had seen what he had hoped she wouldn't see. Maybe she knew about the adoption papers. And maybe she saw her name.

Sherlock came through from the hallway with her things before setting the violin case on the stool.

"I was gonna stop by one of the music shops in town and purchase some new strings. My E's about to snap." Atlas said, her musician intuition having been telling her that. It was about time she got a new set of better quality string's on it and she'd been saving to get some of the best.

"I have some." Sherlock said before rifling through some drawers at the side of the room. 

"I'll pay you back." Atlas said, her voice muffled as the tissue fell across her mouth, mucus filling her unwilling throat.

"Don't you dare." Sherlock laughed. "One of the ways we speak to the outside world lays on how that instrument plays. I want to re-string it with the special strings I bought and my daughter is not paying for it."

"It's how you speak when you don't know how to explain it." John added helpfully, face still hidden by the book. "You both do it. Bach on days that you either don't want to talk or what your feeling is complicated. Pretty Chopin on soft and romantic days - days like those I can get hugs. Sad Chopin on sad days. The composers you play belong to the emotions you feel whether you guys believe it or not, they are. Your father's right Atlas, have the best you can get. And let him do it for you."

Atlas gave humph before noticing her nose bleed had stopped. Rosie came in, Atlas remaining on the floor.

"At! At! At!" Rosie screeched running before stopping in her tracks not even a foot from her. Her face fell and she tilted her head like the dog would when he saw something new - innocent. "What happened?" 

"Just some guy in the street." Atlas said reassuringly. "Anyway, your the one who's really hurt." Atlas lay on the floor, inspecting Rosie's cast with enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, John's mind was running like a racehorse - one that would beat Sherlock's in one stride. 

_Yes, she's hurt but not as much as you. Yes, her arm hurts but not as much as your shoulder did. Yes, she was in pain but not as much as you when you slit a man's throat. Yes, she's scared but not as much as you when you were shot, when you fought with me, not as much as when you shot that woman, not as much as when I pulled your sedated body out of that coffin. Yes, she's hurt Atlas. But your hurt more. I'm sorry if I did something wrong, if I over stepped. But let me help. Let me through. Your my kid. Let me in. I. Love. You._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels.


	5. All My Fear in Every Tear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character essentially has a panic attack, but it's not very well written.

ATLAS has studied the sounds of people's gaits and unusual walking habits from a young age. She was always checking to see if people were gone to bargain for more to eat, to sit with the nice of the family, to go outside. But now, she waited to hear the steady, slow steps of her dad heading to bed. Already, she had heard the silent mutters of the two men by the lit fire, the putting to bed of a worn out Redbeard and the "I'm going to bed" from her dad and then the "I'll be up in a bit" from John. Next, she heard the creek of the bathroom en suite before finally the squeak of a new mattress - the old one was subject to a faulty experiment that Atlas had _nothing_ to do with.

Placing two feet firmly on the ground, and rubbing below her nose where blood had poured hours earlier, she rose on her feet. She gathered her soft blue blanket around her in a cocoon and collected one of her special items off her shelf. Now, on recollection, she realised that Sherlock probably didn't even know it was in her possession after all these years. This little blue nose called Whisper who had been with through it all. Small enough to fit in her father's pocket as a child, she would make him carry Whisper around so that when her father went somewhere, his smell was always there. To this day, the faded toy still smelt of smelly aftershave and Sherlock. 

Tentatively, Atlas gave a little knock, Whisper hidden against her chest. "Dad?" She asked quietly, opening the door to see the man furrowing his eyebrows furiously at a book on the solar system. It had come through as one of Rosie's reception topics and although Atlas and John had already told him to great length that she would not need to know about all of Jupiter's moons or how many galaxies they predict there are on average, Sherlock being Sherlock, still did it. And besides, it wasn't like he knew any of it already. 

Sherlock looked up before Atlas slipped in and stood looking at him. Her arms wrapped around herself as Sherlock looked up at her slowly. Noticing how upset she was Sherlock sat up before tapping the covers next to him, Atlas clambering over the bed to lean a weary head on his shoulder. It didn't remain there long as, he lifted an arm up and slung it round her shoulder.

"Something's wrong." Sherlock said, Atlas nodding before looking up at him. He then saw Whisper, smiling to his self as he used the hand that had been occupied with the book to pick him up. "I can't believe you kept him."

"Of course I kept him." Atlas said. _He was the only piece of you._

Sherlock kissed her head before rubbing her arm and deciding on just sitting there with her. He didn't pressure her to speak, or anything as she remained swaddled under her dark blue blanket. An arm came across his stomach, Atlas placing an ear over his chest like Rosie did as a young child. In fact, as Atlas did as a young child as for that is where he had first used the heartbeat method to relax a child or send them off to sleep. 

Beneath Atlas, Sherlock moved, the bedside table drawer scraping it's way open. From there he pulled out a thin cardboard box, opened it with immaculate care, took the contents out and she heard the scraping of the drawer again. 

"If you sit up a little, I have something to show you." Sherlock said, the teenager doing as she was asked. It was now, she realised that she was behaving like a child and almost regretted her need for comfort like some sort of sentimental toddler. She sat up out of his hold before coming back into it, her head resting on the front of his shoulder. "Just don't make fun of me for it."

"Why- Why would I do that?" Atlas asked, confused before she looked back at the book. It was an album, old, well kept, not completely full.

Tentatively, as if it may break beneath his fingers, Sherlock opened the book. The first two pages they came across depicting a baby. And Sherlock. And her mother.

"They're of me." Atlas said before she looked up at her dad. His lips were tightly shut, just a thin line for a mouth, and quiet eyes.

"They are." He said almost sadly. She didn't need to ask why he had the album, she could already deduce that one, she'd kept Whisper.

"Mum...Mum wasn't always like that was she?" Atlas asked, before her dad only just rubbed her shoulder and looked down at her. He shook his head, before Atlas reached up and gave him a proper hug. "You said it didn't hurt you, to kill her. But it did."

"Of course it did. But what hurt more was watch her become the person I'd never seen before." Sherlock said quietly, his eyes trained on something in the distance. "Something about that scared me. The things she did to you, they scared me more. When I outed her, I was doing it for all of us."

Atlas nodded once as she looked at a picture of Sherlock holding her, her mother (who did not smile anything like the goofy one painting her father's face) and then one of a couple she didn't recognise. 

"Who're they?" Atlas asked, looking up at her father expectantly.

"They are the godparents you only met once." Sherlock admitted, before Atlas smiled against his chest. 

"Where was I born?" Atlas asked, realising she had never known the answer to that. 

"Edinburgh." Sherlock answered, Atlas burrowing into his chest. He stroked her hair before flipping the page. More photos of her, this time as toddler. The creak of the bedroom door made Atlas look up quickly, to see John walking in.

"Sorry, I was just ab-" Atlas started before John shook his head.

"No, it's alright. I have to use the bathroom yet." He replied, Atlas nodding once. She leaned back against Sherlock, looking at the book.

"Rosie's been saying something is going on between you two. A falling out or something." Sherlock said, Atlas only looking at him before down at the album. Her eyes pricking in unshed tears, she nodded into his chest once. "I know one thing. I did many things that should have made John never love me, never like me but he always came back. That unbelievable man is loyal to a fault."

"I just...I did...I said something so cruel, dad." Atlas said, she sat up so as go properly face her father. She now sat crossed legged in the middle of the bed, she looked at him foggy eyed. In the doorway to the bathroom, John remained still, not wanting to disrupt Atlas or let her know he was listening. Always quick at changing, using the loo and brushing his teeth was an advantage and part of him wished he'd taken longer. But he didn't want to prolong the needed conversation. "I didn't - I don't." She sobbed her chest tightening, Sherlock putting a reassuring hand to her shoulder. Her breaths came short, her vision sent blurred and John kept holding on at the door. "I can't -" Pause, ragged breaths. "I can't believe I let that happen to Rosie, I can't believe I shot her, I can't believe-" Another strangled cry later, and John left the doorway. He made his way round the bed to sit at Sherlock's feet, near to where Atlas shook. Her hands clawed around her eyes as she continued to sob. 

"Atlas, love." John said quietly, taking a light hold of her wrists. "Take your hands down." There was a long drawn out moment where she only sobbed into the palms of her hands. Eventually, she dropped her hands, her eyes closed before eventually opening. Her face was covered in messy tears, her face red. "Alright. It's alright." Her breathing was still patchy, coming in short bursts that made her throat dry. "Breathe." Sherlock moved to sit crossed legged aswell, just being there if she needed it. "Breathe, with me. In and out. In and out. Okay, it's okay." Gently, John moved his hands to her shoulders as she sobbed. "In and out." 

"Good." John said quietly, Atlas' breathing approaching some sense of normal. Her body still shook, tears still fell and her throat was still dry.

"I'll go get you some water." Sherlock said, disappearing into the bathroom and collecting the glass that was beside the sink. He came back in and handed the glass over, Atlas taking a few small, initial sips. Carefully, Sherlock took it from her and placed it on the table. 

"I'm sorry, John." She croaked, prompting only a sigh from the man. He ran a tired hand over his eyes before she added desperately. "I'm really - I didn't - I'm sorry Pa." 

"I know." He whispered, looking up at her.

Atlas then tackled him into a tight hug as she sobbed into his shoulder, John placing a hand in her back and rubbing up and down. He rocked with her side to side, his temple resting against the side of her head. Behind her, Sherlock blubbered like a baby and John ushered him with an outstretched arm. He joined, John brushing a stray curl out of his eyes before smiling at him. 

Atlas pulled away, sniffing as she wiped at John's shoulder as if there were some sort of indivisible dust on it. 

"No, no it's fine. It's only pyjamas." He laughed before Atlas gave a little chuckle. Sherlock sitting back against the headboard, the book back on his lap. Atlas' face fell to her lap, John placing a careful hand on her shoulder.

"What else is up?" John asked, Atlas raising her head again. 

"Do you think we could talk?" Atlas questioned, she looked at John then back to Sherlock. "About everything." 

"Yeah. Of course we can." John said, he got off the bed and shuffled next to Sherlock. Atlas swaddled in her blanket and looked at her parents. She hugged her middle and looked at them. There was a long pause before Atlas said.

"You guys are the best set of parents yet." Atlas chuckled, making them laugh and look at each other in return. "I just... you've both seen hell and walked through it, you've both shot people to save and your still the best set of parents anyone could ask for." John looked teary eyed Atlas shuffling forward. "You guys make all of this, so much easier. I don't know why I shot Mrs Peterson, but I don't care because you guys don't care. I'm afraid that one day I'm going to be alone and have a serious seizure, but I put it to the back of my mind knowing that you'll be there. Most of all, I'm afraid I'm going to go off kilter and I like to think even then, even then you'll both be there in the best way possible." Sherlock blinked away tears and looked to his lap, before back up at Atlas. "What I'm trying to say is thank you. Thank you for putting up with me and my lack of social capabilities and often common sense. And most of all. Thank you for being my dads." 

Sherlock held out an arm and flicked his wrist once beckoning his daughter over. She climbed into the small gap between her parents and hugged them in turn. There was a long drawn out silence, filled with thoughts before Atlas stirred again.

"Dad?" Atlas asked looking at her father. He nodded once for fear his voice may fail him. "Could we show pa the photos?"

"Of course we can. He'll be mad I had a book all this time and never told him about you. I mean, this would have been good evidence." Sherlock laughed deeply, his strong hands gripping the book. Atlas sat in the middle, John's arm coming round her shoulder as he kissed her temple, Sherlock handing the book to her. 

"You were a cute baby." John remarked, rubbing Atlas' shoulder. "And you, Sherlock Holmes, there have been few times you've ever smiled that smile."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooocha.


	6. A House

"ATLAS." John shouted through to the kitchen where the girl in question was completing an experiment with her father. The girl emerged and walked over, her goggles on top of her head. "I just received an email from the college." Atlas sighed, before getting a chair and pulling it next to him. They had spoken about school, but despite what she had previously said, she actually wanted to go. Suppose having Sammy there was a big help. "Because the new timetabling starts in a week, they wondered if you would be interested starting then?" 

"Yeah. Sure." Atlas said, before John looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He put a hand to her shoulder and she just sighed. "I might as well. That way I know if I like it."

"Okay." John smiled, his hand lingering on her shoulder longer than necessary - but not in an uncomfortable way. "I'll email them back." 

"Thank you." She said, hopping up from her chair and going back into the kitchen to help her dad out with the next section of the experiment. Rosie had now come in with goggles on that were far too big and an apron, she giggled as Sherlock squatted down to her height. He gave a little chuckle as he righted the squint goggles and made sure her apron was on.

"Daddy?" Rosie asked, scuffing her shoe. "Can I be Watson-Holmes like papi and you?" 

"Do you want to be?" John asked coming into the kitchen and looking across to Atlas who's eyes seemed to say _yes._ He wasn't sure he was ready to adopt her yet or rather, he wasn't sure she was ready. That teenager had seen more than your normal teenager would, she hadn't even been here a full year and to be honest, John was scared of taking on a teenager seven years early. Then again, he supposed he already had and it wasn't that difficult.

"Yes." Rosie replied, pouting as she looked at Sherlock. Sherlock looked up at John for guidance who just nodded his head once. The adoption papers for Rosie were in the bedside table drawer, awaiting signature and sending. They were going to speak with her about it, but it seems it had already been decided.

"When do you start the new position at the surgery?" Atlas asked, curiously, as Sherlock helped Rosie on to a chair between them.

"Tommorow." John replied before coming round the table and pouring what remained of some tea down the sink before washing the mug out. 

"Mid-week." Atlas said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. Apparently, they needed me as soon as the paperwork came through at that end." John sighed, washing out his mug. Atlas' phone went off and she picked it up quickly, looking for who it was.

"Sammy's asking if he can come round on Saturday?" Atlas asked, looking between her parents. "His sister, Georgia has ice skating with friends and he's got a free day." 

"I don't see why not." John smiled, before he looked at Sherlock expectantly. The younger man looked up, a crinkle appearing between his eyebrows. "Sherlock, our daughter is trying to ask you a question." _Our daughter._

"Sorry, love. These results just came up different to what I was anticipating." Sherlock said looking to his eldest who smirked, rolled her eyes before looking at him pointedly.

"Can Sammy come over on Saturday?" Atlas asked, sighing as she unlocked her phone and went to his text.

"Yeah. Only, Grandma Wanda and Grandad Timothy are coming into the city. Their staying with Mycroft and Eurus for three or four nights." Sherlock said, smiling slightly as he looked at a confused John. "They only rang late last night." John's face made an _ah_ shape and he nodded once. "They're coming on Saturday so they might look in but I've made plans on Sunday to go out to lunch with them. Your pa has said that from now on, Sunday's have to remain clear so they can be _family days."_ He said _family days_ with so much disgust that it made John give a quiet snort. 

"Family days doesn't necessarily mean the whole eight of us. It can just be the four of us though Sherlock." John laughed before the other man gave a deeper, heartier laugh.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ATLAS." Sherlock whispered into her bedroom. It was two o'clock in the morning. "Atlas." Her head raised momentarily from pillow, before she huffed and dropped it back down. For a moment she considered telling her dad to _piss off._ However, she swung her legs out of bed and switched on her side lamp. She looked over to him before scowling.

"This better be good." Atlas said before he gave a smirk. It was now she saw that he too was wearing his pyjamas and she got to her feet.

"Oh, it is. And I need _your_ help." Sherlock smiled, his daughter rolling her eyes and walking over to him. "Come on." He led her over to the living room and sat down at the desk. She pulled up a chair next to him and watched as he pulled up several tabs on the internet.

They were houses. _Houses._

"Your thinking of moving?" She asked quietly, looking up with him. He nodded once before he pulled up a tab of the first house. "Have you told pa?"

"No." Sherlock replied quickly. "I want it to be a surprise."

"Why?" Atlas asked quietly. "He might not take it well, you know." 

"You think I should tell him?" He asked looking at his daughter.

"I mean you can buy a house if you find one you like. But dad, you need to talk to him." She looked at him seriously. "You jumped off a bloody roof and Mary died. He might think your trying to leave him behind. He might panic. And besides," Shrugging she looked at him. "You can always tell him you've been thinking about it and if he's cool with it, then you can buy it. But why do you need my help?"

"Because Mrs Hudson informed me a few days ago that she's going to sell up. She offered it to me to buy, but I said I thought it was about time we moved on. And I need your help to make the house feel like a home before it's been lived in. You have your mother's eye for colour." Sherlock informed her before he frowned thinking about Mrs Hudson.

"I'm maybe not the best person you could ask to help dad." Atlas said quietly. "I'm sixteen, seventeen at the end of the year. I'll be able to drive and then maybe I'll go to university or something. What if I choose to not stay at home?" She asked, looking at him with big blue eyes. The question was a serious one, one that Sherlock had already thought about in detail.

"You'll always need a home to come back to." He put an arm round her shoulder and rubbed it gently. "And you'll always need your family. So you need a room, okay?" 

"Yeah." She said quietly, before looking at the screen again.

"That and the universities are unlikely to take you until your 18. Seeing as we managed to negotiate you getting into college a year earlier because of your previous attainments. So you'll most likely have a gap year." Sherlock said. _Need a gap year._

"Okay." She smiled before she read the details of the house. She thought about them all in detail and by the time precisely two minutes and thirty seconds had passed they had both dismissed a total of seven houses. Now there were only two left. 

"Do we visit them?" Atlas asked, he smiled before giving a curt nod. 

"We do." He said. "We'll do that today if you like?" 

"Yeah sure. What do you say to John?" She asked, putting her own arm round her dad's waist. "And when are you going to talk to him about it?" 

"I don't know what to say to him, but I'll think of something. How's about we go this afternoon? That allows me for time to talk to John this morning." He said, rubbing her arm again

"I'll change me and Ro's bedding to give you guys time." Atlas said, before she looked at the laptop. "Just make sure he doesn't see this, okay?" She got up to leave before looking back at him. Going over she kissed his cheek and hugged him.

"Go sleep. I know John thinks your incapable or that your mind doesn't switch off. But your tired, dad. And when your tired you piss people off and that's when you turn to things like cases or, or drugs. So if your going to have a conversation with John, please, please go to sleep. For me?" When she pulled away Sherlock looked at her before smiling and going through the living room and into the hallway. Atlas went to bed and for once, Sherlock listened to his daughter and he too went to bed. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

7:43am. Shouting. Atlas woke, startled by the noise. Creeping into the hallway she saw Rosie, standing in her doorway looking equally confused. Together, they made their way down the stairs and looked through the living room door. Already Mrs Hudson had turned up, and Rosie gravitated towards her - Jeff clutched in hand.

"Sherlock!" John shouted at him, the younger man reeling back. "Your supposed to tell me about things like this." Atlas looked to Mrs Hudson, then saw that the laptop was open. _Shit. John must have found the open tabs._ As she had said she would, Atlas collected Rosie and together they went to the airing cupboard and got out the new bedding.

"Ro. There just talking about something really important. Don't let it upset you, okay?" Atlas said, Rosie nodding once before they headed to the bedroom, Mrs Hudson in tow.

"Sherlock." John said, quieter this time. Kinder. Softer. "You just, you need to tell me about big things like this, okay?" 

"I was going to." Sherlock said, looking at the floor as he scuffed his foot over it. His beige robe hanging slightly off his shoulder. John walked over, still looking angry causing Sherlock to take some barefoot steps backwards. He walked into the chair and for a flickering moment looked like a rabbit in the headlights. But what hurt John most was that he looked _scared_ of him.

"Sherlock. Jesus. It's okay." John said the younger man still looking at the floor. "You - You look like I'm about-" Then before he could utter the words from his mouth on what he was going to say, he realised. "Oh shit. Oh Sherlock."

"I'm sorry." The younger man managed to say, still looking at the floor. 

"I should really be the one apologising. I will never, _ever_ do what I did to you again, Sherlock. God, I think about it all the time and I can't stop hating myself for it. And now I know it was so close to Serbia. Well that just makes me hate myself more." John said, before adding. "Why do we never talk about things like this?" He plonked into one of the kitchen chairs before he looked at the ceiling. He gave a sigh, Sherlock surprising him as he sat in a chair opposite him.

"I love you." Sherlock said quietly. "Just know that, please."

"Of course I know that you git." John said before sitting forward and seeing Sherlock's glossy blue eyes. 

"I'll love you, no matter what you do. And I've always loved you." Sherlock said, John nodding before they gave each other a much needed hug. 

"Jesus, I love you too." John pulled away and put his hands on either side of Sherlock's face. Brushing at the tears with the pad of his thumb. They exchanged a short kiss before Sherlock smiled goofily, John doing the same. "If it's all the same to you, you can keep which house you choose a secret."

Sherlock looked up at him, wide eyed. "Your sure your okay with that?" 

"No. I'm not sure that I 100% am, however, it's important to you." John smiled. "And I trust you a hell of a lot."

"Me and Atlas narrowed it down to just those two. I've already asked for her help, but do you think it's alright if we don't tell anyone until we buy it, until you and Rosie see it?" Sherlock smiled, John nodding once. 

"Now, I have to get off to the surgery." John laughed, kissing Sherlock again. Atlas and Rosie came back in, John hugging and kissing both of them on the cheeks. Before doing the same to Mrs Hudson who gave a laugh.

"Remember Sherlock -" John began but was cut off by a loud sigh emanating from Sherlock as he rolled his eyes.

"Rosie to nursery for 2, pick up at 4:30." Sherlock laughed. "You might be late home, but there are ingredients in to cook. I'll keep some back for you. Rosie to bed at 7, chase Atlas to bed at 10 or 10:30."

John nodded once before smiling and leaving, his family waving good bye from the door.

"Right, time for breakfast my dear Watson." Sherlock said swooping the girl into the air in a fit of giggles. _Well, that went a lot better than expected._

_A lot better._


	7. A Music Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am a Scottish student in a Scottish school. Therefore my knowledge on schools in England is INCREDIBLY poor. Therefore I just want to say that I may not be the best at writing and understanding Atlas in school/college. I have researched but with the whole age thing...
> 
> Also, my writing is rubbish. I know. Don't @ me.
> 
> Also, I've stopped checking them for mistakes too because I cba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my house description is rubbish, but please go with it. I'm also making it in the Sims 4 so I might upload some photos of it.

THE first house they visited was a fail, damp lining every corner. It was a beautiful house but it lacked in love, Sherlock said he couldn't see them having a future there, that and the other house was closer to the public school Rosie was going to attend. And Atlas' new college was closer to the other house too. They both knew that it would be instinct when they would find the right house. 

"We need to catch a bus to the next one," Sherlock said as they went up to the bus stop. There they sat, waiting a few minutes before they got on board. Sherlock gave a small smile to the bus driver and sat down on a double seat. Conveniently, the bus was relatively quiet and they managed to get a seat next to each other. Sherlock pulled out his phone and updated his tweet page before looking at it.

"What do you think?" Sherlock asked, handing it over to Atlas who looked at it before realising there was something she had meant to say to him.

"That you don't normally get on buses. _And_ that there are a few people around us who want selfies and autographs but are too polite to ask." Atlas said before she looked some more at the message he had had come through.

"And too British." Sherlock said under his breath, causing Atlas to laugh which in turn sparked himself to do the same.

"I think it was the teenage daughter." She replied quickly handing it back, Sherlock nodding in agreement before he continued to type. 

The people around them were confused. They had heard of Sherlock Holmes but who was this mystery girl going around with him. Speculation had led to the public learning that he was gay, then came the blog note about the engagement. But the two men were always so careful not to involve their children. They didn't want speculation to follow them too.

"We're nearly there." Sherlock said quietly from beside her and she looked at her watch, before calculating the miles that it must be from the last one. Actually, the location of this one was pretty good. Not far from Molly's, a tube journey from Mrs Hudson's property in central London, near enough to Bart's, close enough to New Scotland Yard but in particular, it was quieter than 221B Baker Street. It felt more like a home.

They got off and Sherlock walked around a little, Atlas following on as he went round a corner and down a little, quiet street. Houses of miscellaneous decor, building dates, structures lined the street, each one with a large front garden and clear space round the back that was sizable too. Up ahead of her, her dad came to a stop and looked at her with the crinkle brow she found more than _easy_ to replicate. 

"Come on." He muttered impatiently, Atlas rolling her eyes and taking long strides up to him. "This is the one."

Atlas looked at it and smiled. It looked just as it did in the photos. Big. There was no mistaking that, Sherlock had already said that four bedroom was the most appropriate so that they could have a guest bedroom. It was old, almost like an old converted barn, almost as if Atlas could see if having sat there since before all the other houses. The front garden was not as big for this one as it was for the others, this house sitting more forward in it's plot. However, there was still room and adequate space for flowers and potted plants. To the right of the lawn section, was a drive way which appeared to peter round the back to give additional space, but on the front their was already enough space for two cars. A gate seperated the back driveway from the front and a wall seperated the housing plot from the public road. The distance suggested they were probably sitting on the outskirts here, the road off to the right leading into the countryside. A patch of trees scattering off from the side of the house next to the driveway. 

As they entered the house, Atlas smiled, before them was a little bit for their coats and jackets, shoes and umbrellas. To their left a huge open space and to their right there was another door which - when Atlas poked her head in out of curiosity - she discovered contained a comfortable sized bathroom. Directly infront, she noticed the coat rack and shoe rack but also a spot for putting shoes to dry on the radiator. It was then she noticed the rack aswell for hanging out wet clothing. In addition to this, on the wall nearest the bathroom there was a set of stairs. She assumes they led up to the second floor, of which the website explained their were bedrooms.

"Now or later?" Sherlock asked, Atlas taking a moment to think. 

"Now. We're here." Atlas said as they went up the stairs, leading to a sunlit hallway that was long and had rooms on either side. There was also a hallway that stuck to the wall and led to a banister that snaked along. Atlas assumed they'd get to that later. The first room they entered was the bathroom, done up with wood amongst other things _and_ it had a bath and a shower - _separately._

The second room they went into was big, the master bedroom, which had an en-suite. The walls were painted white and the carpet was a cream colour. This en-suite was similar to the other one and then Atlas could picture the room. 

"This will be me and John's room." Sherlock said, Atlas nodding as she saw the bookcase in the wall again and she smiled. This house was really taking her fancy.

The next room, was a little room with not a huge amount of space, but that was most likely due to yet another en-suite.

"I was thinking guest room. Keeps whoever we have over self-contained if you will." Atlas gave a smile as Sherlock said it, nodding.

Next was Rosie's room, which to her surprise had painted walls. But special painted walls, with birds and bees and bugs and all the things a five year old loves. 

"She'll probably grow out of them fast, but the house came with the painted walls so I thought we might as well utilize them." Sherlock smiled as Atlas looked around the sizable room and out the window.  
"Your room next."

They went into the final room, Atlas' eyes going wide as she saw what she had always dreamt of having. A window seat. The room was a good size, painted in a soft cream - similar to what was to be John and Sherlock's room. She went over to it and looked out the window before she looked over to her dad and eyed him up suspiciously.

"You had all the rooms planned out. You knew who's would be who's." She scolded before her eyes went wide at him, Sherlock smirking. "You've already made an offer and your waiting to hear back. Did you just want company or something?"

"No. I didn't want to spring it on you." Sherlock said simply, shrugging his shoulders. Atlas tilted her head at him, before he gave a little sad smile. "Incase you thought I was going to leave you behind again." 

_Oh my God. Sherlock Holmes actually thought about that._

"I know you wouldn't." Atlas said smiling from where she looked out the window.

"How do you know?" Sherlock asked.

"Because a lot's changed and I'm willing to fight for it this time. I have a reason to." Atlas smiled before giving her father a quick hug before they made their way down the stairs.

Finally, they walked through to the other side, the big house somehow managing to remain cosy. They went in and saw that it was beautiful. The perfect way to describe it. Cosy wooden and stone walls with a fire in the corner - Atlas being able to imagine her parents chairs sat in front of it. Atlas could also imagine them having a secondary lounge area where they could sit when they had guests. 

As she entered the room she spotted the wall to her right had a kitchen area and breakfast bar. High stools lining the edge and wall cupboards going along. She spotted another door, right next to the cabinet with the dishwasher. Over on a diagonal to the breakfast bar, she could imagine a dining table that could fit six people (eight or ten at a push) as they invited their numerous family members over for meals. On the far end of the room, the same wall as where she could see the second lounge area, there were sliding double doors which opened into a sizable garden. 

"I have something to show you." Sherlock smiled as he went up a set of stairs that creeped up the side of a wall. It was now Atlas noted the height of the ceiling in this section and it was now that she noted the balcony. Leading her up he revealed an empty balcony and landing. She looked around waiting to see what he would see, before looking over the banister.

"I had something in mind for here." He said before looking around. "I came here with my violin to test the acoustics."

"And they were good I'm guessing?" Atlas asked quietly, smiling as she looked around.

"I want this to be like a music landing. Somehow we managed to get the piano up the stairs in 221B, so I figured we could probably do it here. We could put comfortable furniture and seating out. Have bookcases and drawers for music and we have all the natural light coming from that." He said enthusiastically, pointing at two, side by side sky lights. "John can write his blog up here, you can write aswell. Bring Grandad Timothy up here and show him all of it. Like a study."

"A musical study." There was a brief pause. "You were hoping that I liked this one." Atlas remarked before she looked over the banister and she saw what she assumed was a toilet she hadn't seen before. She also saw the banister snaking along the wall to the bedrooms and she liked this feature.

Sherlock bit his lip in apprehension of what his daughter would say to it. 

"Oh my God I love it." Atlas exclaimed hugging her dads side as he gave a laugh, Atlas doing similar. He rubbed her arm with his thumb.

"Just so you know. I would never and I will never leave you behind." Sherlock said kissing her hair and resting his cheek on top of her head.

"I know dad, I know."

And in that door that Atlas had seen, leading from the kitchen was a huge work space - it had to be the size of all the bedrooms put together. She'd been told by Sherlock Sherlock they weren't going in there today - it was going to be a _surprise_ for her. However, Sherlock had said they would set up for experiments only. He had plans for a special fridge in their too. With excitement they chatted over all the plans they had for the house. The ideas, how they all saw it come together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The layout of the house had been edited. Please do not hesitate to tell me if I have completed missed a detail or if it doesn't make sense. 😄🤗


	8. You Brilliant Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas is on her period in this, just so you know.
> 
> Quite cute fluff. Enjoy!

"AWWWW fuck off." Atlas said feeling that familiar feeling in her abdomen. "I'm supposed to see Sammy on Saturday, the family on Sunday." She looked down at herself as the feeling continued, cramping in her stomach. Being a teenage female with two male parents was interesting at the best of times and she had never mentioned her period before. That was something she wasn't ready to discuss, and besides she never found a reason to - particularly as it wasn't bad.

It was Friday night, the previous day being quiet as Atlas went with Mrs Hudson to get Jem - the cat she had been eyeing up. They had had a successful introduction between Redbeard and Jem _and_ lengthy chat about housing with Mrs Hudson. It was only ten so she figured she could leave her room and go to the medicine cupboard. Collecting her hot water bottle along the way - she often found this didn't work great but it provided comfort. She left her room, only to realise it had started so she made her way to the toilet. Doing what she needed to, she noted she hadn't bled onto her pyjama trousers and snuck along the hallway. She opened the door into the living room, John lying against Sherlock on the sofa, as they watched something on TV. 

"Are you OK?" Sherlock asked looking up, John doing the same. Atlas nodded once before going into the kitchen, grabbing some ibuprofen and taking it. The cramps were the worst she'd had in a while as she filled up the kettle and set it to boil. 

"It's 10:23." Sherlock said walking into the kitchen, John coming in a moment or two later with two empty mugs. 

"Yes. What were you guys watching?" Atlas asked smiling as she looked at her dad. She knew he was deducing and she knew she wanted to tell them both the truth.

"We just watched through an episode of Game Of Thrones on catch up. Forcing your dad to watch it." John smirked putting the mugs into the sink. Atlas knew that both men had spotted the hot water bottle, that she had taken Ibuprofen - of course they knew this in different ways - and she sighed. Both men looked at her, expecting her to speak.

"I'm on my period. Just started and I've got cramps." She laughed before it died and she looked at the interesting floor. "You know, instead of both looking like confused puppy's you could've asked. I'd tell you. You could've asked the last few times aswell."

"And you don't find it..?" John began, his hands waving as he thought of something to say. "Awkward?"

"No, course not. Your my dads; one of whom is a detective and at some point probably read up on all there is to know;" She eyed up Sherlock. "and the other is a doctor who worked in a war where I have no doubt there were females and is now a GP. And like I said, your my dads, I don't have a mum to talk to it about, so I just have to deal with it. Even though it's not difficult." Atlas said exsasperatedly, before smirking the Holmes smirk and looking at John. For a moment both of them felt proud. Proud of themselves for managing to do this. Proud of themselves that their daughter trusted them enough to tell them.

"I'll fill your hot water bottle up." John smiled before he put a hand to her shoulder.

"I've got the beginnings of a migraine too." Atlas quipped. "Just so you know, sometimes it makes me feel sick or sometimes I am sick."

"Okay." Sherlock smiled, goofily before adding. "You don't need anything?"

"No, all good." Atlas smiled before John slipped the hot water bottle into a knitted snug. He handed it to her before kissing her forehead and Sherlock doing just the same. Before long, they were watching as she disappeared off to her bedroom, Sherlock and John heading back to the sofa just in time for 'The Graham Norton Show'.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

LATER still that evening, Sherlock sat on the bed, crossed legged reading a book. He'd already showered and brushed his teeth, changed and picked up from where he had finished reading his book. To John's amusement, Sherlock had started reading only one book at a time and not twelve, as for that was when he started getting overloaded with unimportant information. John was currently brushing his teeth and before long making his way over to the bed. He put a hand to his shoulder and swung his arm round, trying to release the pull in it.

"John." Sherlock said, knowing that the four years older man did those movements when it was aching. Slowly, he finished the chapter and put down the book before hilariously bum shuffling his way over to where John was sat. Gentle fingers rubbed the ache beneath the t-shirt, Sherlock massaging it gently. He placed a gentle kiss to his shoulder before moving his hands again. 

Soon enough, Sherlock had worked most of the ache out with gentle touches and John let out a painless breath. Carefully, Sherlock placed his chin on the shoulder and looked over to the wall. The closeness surprisingly comforting for both men.

"Your shoulder aches when your stressed." Sherlock said, lifting his head slightly. "I have it all under control. And besides I have Atlas to help me out, we've found one we really like. It's all going OK. I promise. I can do it." 

"Oh, Sherlock." John said quietly. "It's not that. I trust you. It's just Atlas coming into the kitchen this evening has me thinking."

"Hmmm?" Sherlock asked, a hand coming round to rub the older man's chest gently. 

"What if Rosie struggles to tell us in future? What if they both feel like they can't tell us things because of gender?" John said quickly, all of it falling out his mouth at once. "I don't want to fail." 

"If we fail - note the _we_ \- then we'll fail together. And then we'll fix it together." Sherlock said, continuing to rub John's chest. "Okay?"

"Yeah." John breathed before he looked at Sherlock. "I'm so lucky to have you."

"I'm luckier." 

"Guess we both are then."

They lay back, slipped under the covers and lay with each other.

"John?"

"Sherlock, go to sleep."

"I was thinking."

"Uh oh. Yes?"

"How long would you let me keep the surprise of the new house from you? Up until what stage would you say? _Roughly."_

"Whenever." 

"Really?"

"Yes, just don't be stupid about it."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"I know."

There was a pause of silence.

"John?" 

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, you brilliant man." 

And Sherlock smiled that smile until the need for sleep consumed him and he slept the best he had in years.


	9. Explaining The World to Rosie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are descriptions of vomit in this. Just so you know.
> 
> Yes, I know its rubbish.

SHE was awake, sweating and feeling the most nauseous she had ever been during a migraine. Slowly, she got onto two wobbly feet and made her way to the bathroom. Sitting down by the toilet she lay her head against the tiles as her head pounded. She wanted to cry. She wanted her dads. 

It rised from her stomach like fire and before long she was emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She let out a whimper as her head pounded and she wished that one of her parents would wake up. The smell from the toilet made her dry heave and she let a tear fall. Soon, she found the bathroom light to be too bright and she was sick again into the toilet.

"At?" A little voice came from behind her, Atlas looking back. A tired Rosie was stood in the doorway, Jeff in hand.

"Don't be...don't be scared Ro." Atlas whispered.

"I'll get help." Rosie said quietly as Atlas let out another whimper.

"Papa! Daddy! Papa!" Rosie screeched running into their bedroom, the two men grumbling. "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Daddy! Papa!"

"Rosie?" Sherlock said, stirring from his sleep around the same time as John.

"Daddy, come quick. Atlas is sick." Rosie said before she darted off leaving the two men to look at each other, swiftly making their way through.

Atlas heaved again when Rosie came back in, tear stains streaming their way down her face. 

"Oh love." John said, the first person to appear, as Atlas gave a little whimper cry. He was by her side in no time, a hand on her shoulder. Sherlock stood in the doorway before getting a hair bobble from the pot on the side and kneeling down on the other side of his daughter. He fashioned her hair into a low ponytail before Rosie sat on the edge of the bath, fidgeting with Jeff.

Atlas heaved again, weakness overcoming her body. 

"Alright. Okay. It's okay. We're here." Sherlock muttered as she slumped against him, John reaching out to take her hand. He stroked the back of it gently as she closed her eyes against Sherlock. 

"I'm so tired." Atlas whimpered, her head running at ten times the speed it normally would.

"I know, love." John said as Atlas closed her eyes as Rosie let out a sob from where she was sitting. John opened his arms and took her into them and kissed her hair. "Look, see she's alright." 

"I know papa." Rosie whispered, looking up at him with glossy eyes. "Just, At is ill a lot and your a doctor. What's wrong with her papi? What's wrong?"

"You'll learn what's wrong with her tonight in time." John smiled, Atlas smiling too. However, when the five year old looked at him like it was the most stupidest thing he had ever said, he changed what he was saying. "She's got a headache and it's making her feel sick."

"Ok." Rosie said quietly. "What about those thingy's where she looks into the distance?"

"Those?" John asked, Rosie nodding her front teeth sucking her bottom lip.

"Yeah." 

"Those are seizures." John sighed. They had just said that it was something Atlas might do from time to time but they were becoming more frequent. She had an appointment booked at his surgery in the next week or so, so they should hopefully move her onto some new medication. 

"Sei-zur-es." Rosie said aloud, trying the word out.

"Atlas gets them when she's feeling really, really nervous. She also has a problem with her heart that's not serious and they are still researching cases linked to that. It could be that her heart causes her to have the seizures but the doctor's don't know." John said quietly, stroking the young girls hair. "I know it's scary but we're going to get on top of them so they happen less often. It just might take some time, OK?"

"Yeah. OK." Rosie said, looking up at him.

"Come on. Let's put you back to bed." John smiled picking Rosie up and taking her to her bedroom. Lying her down on the bed she nestled in, looked at him expectantly before he tucked her in. "Go back to sleep Rosie. Grandma and Grandad should be here tommorow afternoon."

"Yay!" The five year old squealed, making John give a little laugh before kissing her forehead lightly.

John started to make his way back to the bathroom, creeping inside. Not a moment or two after his return and Atlas was sick again - this time it consisting of more bile than anything else. She let out a tired sob.

"I know, I know." John said stroking a piece of loose fringe behind her ear.

"I'm sorry." Atlas whispered into the toilet before a small tear appeared in the corner of her eye.

"Hey, hey, Atlas none of that." Sherlock soothed, rubbing her back before she leaned back a little.

"I think I'm all good." Atlas said quietly, before Sherlock flushed it and looked at her. She wiped her mouth on some toilet roll and got it in the bin first time around. 

"I'll get you a bucket to put by your bed okay?" Sherlock said before disappearing and then she turned to John with glossy eyes.

"Promise me something?" Atlas asked, looking at him with those eyes.

"Yeah?" He asked as he drew her into his arms.

"If you ever have a conversation where he blames himself, tell him off for it. Tell him it's not his fault, kick his ass about it if you have to, but it's not his fault. He probably thinks the seizures are too, but you can't control them." Atlas said, before he just nodded and kissed her hair.

"How's your head?" John asked, stroking her hair.

"Better. I'm still not feeling great. Probably need to sleep it all off." Atlas said quietly before she got to her feet, rinsed out her mouth. She wobbled through to her room and sat on her bed, the covers drawn over her lap. John sat down opposite her and looked at her kindly as she sent a quick text to Sammy saying she was ill. Not to her surprise he replied quickly.

_**I have a migraine. You can come on Sunday - if you can bare the thought of meeting my grandparents and spending time with my uncle, aunt, dads and Rosie. Or you can come after college on Monday, one of our free days or next weekend? AH**_

_**PS - please come on Sunday and then another day. I need rescuing. AH** _

_**Fine. I'll come on Sunday. Or rather tommorow. Migraines suck my dude. SW** _

_**Tell me about it. Where you at? AH** _

_**Up on roof. SW** _

_**Okay, don't fall. AH** _

_**As if. SW** _

_**I mean it, one wrong move. AH** _

_**Fussy. SW** _

John looked at her expectantly before she put her phone back on her bedside table. 

"Sammy. I said he could come Sunday, is that ok?" Atlas answered.

"Yeah. Course it is. I liked him you know?"

"Yeah. He's one of the few people who doesn't think I'm freak spawn." 

"If your sick again you can come and get us okay?" John said, Atlas nodding.

"Won't be necessary." Sherlock said, returning with a water bottle and a blanket. He plonked himself down in the chair by her bed - it was a sort of armchair - and covered himself in a blanket.

"Dad." Atlas scolded. "You can't sit in a chair for the rest of the night." 

"I can." Sherlock smiled, before curling up and opening the book in the dim lit room.

"Sherlock." John said, looking at the man. Then he realised that this was another one of those no argument situations and decided to leave it. He kissed his fiance's forehead, then his lips and left the bedroom.

"Dad." Atlas said rolling over to look at her father.

"Yeah?" He asked. 

"We never looked at the garden."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop. If anyone has an idea for a house name, much appreciated.


	10. Have You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy.

"HELLO John dear." Wanda said as she fussed him the next afternoon. The rest of the night had gone fine, Atlas had not thrown up anymore and he'd slept relatively OK. That was completely different to that of his partner who had only come out the room for coffee and toast at lunchtime - despite his own and Atlas' insistence that she was perfectly fine. Infact the migraine was lifting already, and she was starting to feel a lot better.

"Grandma Wanda!" Rosie squealed, running at the woman with outstretched arms which the woman mocked.

"Hello." Wanda smiled as she lifted her up and admired her hair now which John had stuck in this morning. "That's a very pretty bow you've got there."

"Nana Hudson got me it." She grinned before wriggling like a worm causing Wanda to put her down. The five year old's next target was Timothy who kissed her cheek and gave her a similar hug.

"Oh hello." Mrs Hudson said coming out the kitchen with a pot of tea and mugs. "John, are Sherlock and Atlas-"

"I don't think so." John sighed, scratching his eyebrow before Wanda looked at him with a furrowed brow. "Atlas has a migraine, the end of it now. She was sick last night and Sherlock being the person he is hasn't moved from the chair in her bedroom."

"That sounds like him." Timothy laughed, before Rosie insisted that she show him Billy the skull in more detail. Mrs Hudson sighed as she poured out some cups of tea before handing one to each party - except Wanda who put up her hand.

"I think I'll go pay them a visit." She smiled to John who told her which room it was. Disappearing through the door she found her granddaughters bedroom, knocked lightly and entered. The sight that greeted her was surprising to say the least. Atlas asleep, curled into Sherlock who was sat on the bed. His arm was draped protectively round her shoulder whilst his head lolled on top of her head. Asleep. Slowly, smiling to herself, she went back and retrieved John, just to show him.

"It's moments like these that I realise Sherlock isn't the arrogant arse he always makes out to be." John laughed, Wanda giving the same smile.

"I heard that." Sherlock whispered, his eyes opening slowly as he looked at his mother and John. Wanda entered the room and sat by Sherlock's feet, John taking up residence in the bedside chair.

"Do you know how's she's feeling?" John asked, his head nodding at the sleeping teenager.

"She was going to get up and move around a bit at lunch. But..." Sherlock began but then stopped with a furrowed brow.

"You fell asleep." Atlas laughed as she stirred from beside him. Sherlock laughed a little too as she wriggled to sit up, leaning against the headboard. Sherlock still opened his arm for her to slot in, and when she refused, he just pulled her into a hug.

"Dad." Atlas said rolling her eyes.

"What? Are you too old for hugs? Now your not feeling ill?" Sherlock said sarcastically, surprising the two other parties in the room not involved in the conversation. 

"Yes." Atlas scowled before Sherlock rubbed her shoulder.

"Never." 

There was a quiet pause while everyone thought of what to say. 

"Would you like to stay for tea?" John asked after some time, the question directed at Wanda.

"If it's -"

"Its fine, and I'll ask Mrs Hudson up aswell." John smiled, before he stood up. "I suppose I best go and see what we have in to cook." He kissed Atlas' forehead before exchanging one with his partner who smiled. Wanda following him out, stopping him in the hallway.

"You, John Watson are a special man." She praised, a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry?" 

"A special man."

"I'm sorry, I don't quite follow." 

"It takes a special person to love a Holmes." There was a pause. "Timothy's mother said it to me when I married him. Just thought you should hear it from me. More so because you love two." 

"Four, Wanda. You and Timothy are the closest I'm ever going to get to a set of parents. To an extent I'm beginning to like Mycroft and Eurus too." John laughed before adding. "Just please, don't tell them that."

"Understood." She paused a moment. "I have a maths book for Atlas. Although, I heard she has decided to take a course in English Literature, History and Politics. Quite an array and not quite what I would expect. She's very good with numbers but she is definitely better with words. Well she's bound to be with all that reading she does."

"Oh. It definitely will. They emailed me again yesterday saying they were willing to let her study maths aswell, so long as she put the hours in at home. Something about their attainment, how it would look, how the college could develop for advanced learners. I don't know." He sighed, his hands going up before crossing in front of his chest.

"They're smart children, Atlas and Rosie." Wanda smiled. "Your lucky to have them."

 _I know._ John thought. _I know._

Wanda's mouth opened to say something, but she shut it again. There was a pause whilst the older woman gathered the needed courage to speak.

"Have you thought about adopting her?" Wanda asked, only prompting John to create a face and move away from the door an little more. Their voice reduced to barely a hushed whisper.

"Sorry?" He asked, startled by the woman's question.

"Atlas." Wanda added, smiling slowly to herself. "If it's not out of place to say this and I firmly believe it is not. Then I believe you should adopt her. Sherlock has already adopted Rosie as far as I know." 

"How do yo-"

"He does ring his mother sometimes you know."

"Right yes, sorry." He paused. "Yes." He paused again, the words not coming into his mouth. The saliva in his mouth was running low on supply, the fears he'd been having for weeks ready to be displayed in front of this woman. "Yes, I've thought of it. More than once. I just don't know if she's ready, if _I'm_ ready to take on a teenager seven years early."

"But you love her?"

"Yes. I do." He scoffed, adding quickly. "Of course I do, she's Sherlock." 

"Well then." Wanda said, as if it were plainly obvious. She turned to leave before stopping, not yet content with the discussion. "Also, just so you know, Atlas isn't like most teenagers. She helps out, she's not super grumpy, she's content in her own company. Anger is not something she does, she's a peaceful teenager and she's turning out not too shabby. Not that I have experience with _normal_ teenagers anyway." The way she said 'normal' with a screwed face, drew a smile to his lips. "And besides, she's got more of you in her than I think you know. Even if you've not even known her a year."  
Wanda left before John could add the little bit more to it.

_"It feels like I've known her her whole life."_


	11. How To Do It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what to do in the summary for this chap.
> 
> Except enjoy!

"HELLO Samuel." Sherlock said, the young boy entering the flat at exactly 9:30am as requested by Atlas. The young man in question stood in the door, looking over to the older man before smiling fondly.

"Good morning Mr Holmes." He chirped, as he loosened his nervous grip in the handle of his guitar slightly. 

"Morning!" John called from the kitchen, poking his head just into view as he smiled. "Behave, Sherlock." Looking at him sternly, before smirking, his head dipping away again.

"I always behave." The tall man insisted, before dropping his eyes back down to the book he was reading. Sammy was surprised when he recognised the name as being the same as the book that Atlas had pointed out when they visited her uncle.

"No you don't." Atlas replied sharply, coming out of the bedroom. "Come in. They're not going to bite you." She scowled at Sherlock who looked back at her, with the Holmes smirk. 

"Rosie might if John doesn't feed her soon." Sherlock said, glancing over to his partners chair.

"Speaking of Rosie, I wonder where she is today?" Atlas said, understanding fine well she was behind John's chair. Out of view of herself and Sammy. "You can put your guitar over there. We aren't meeting the rest of my estranged family until half eleven." Sammy gave a nod before the dark haired girl complied in Rosie's game before finding her. She let out a squeal and ran to John, hugging his legs. Sammy followed her into the kitchen, smiling.

"Do you think you could do me and your dad a big favour and take Red out?" John asked as he gave Rosie the bowl of fruit he had cut up. She thanked him before going over to Sherlock and crawling into his lap. It was a normal occurrence for the five year old to have a large helping of fruit, crawl into Sherlock's lap and force him to eat it too. That's why John always made sure to cut up a lot, to force his partner to eat.

"Yeah, sure." Atlas replied, looking over to where the dog was lying in the centre of the living room floor, a rope dog chew in his mouth.

"Thank you." He said, before Atlas looked at Sammy.

"Did you have breakfast?" Atlas asked Sammy who nodded once. "Good, I've been up since seven so I have too."

Together, they collected the dog lead and walked over to him. Excitedly, the dog sat up, his eyes going wide, ears back. 

"When your out, I don't suppose you could pick up some shopping too?" John called. 

"Pa." Atlas whined before smirking. She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. What do we need?" 

"This." He said handing her a shopping list, a £10 note and a £20 note. It was small and consisted of various items, but she knew that depending where they went and what they chose to buy could increase it.

"Okay." Atlas smiled before they exited, John shouting a 'Thank You' along to them.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SHERLOCK" John started, taking a seat in the chair opposite his fiance's.

"Mmm?" 

"I need to speak to you." John said, his eyes going to down to his lap as he waited for Sherlock to offer him his full attention.

"Sherlock, can you at least look at me? So I know your listening? It's important." 

The younger man shuffled in his seat before looking over. "Sorry, please continue."

"I don't really -, I suppose -...look I've been thinking." John said, realising that now was as good a time as any. Atlas was out, Rosie downstairs with Mrs Hudson helping her prepare for Jem the cat. There were a few items she needed to purchase online to be fitted when she moved house in a few weeks.

"Yes?" Sherlock replied, impatiently.

"I want to adopt Atlas." John said, closing his eyes before opening to look at a slack jawed Sherlock. Silence. Nothing but silence and the worry that he had overstepped shadowed John. "So I suppose, I'm really asking if I can?" 

"Right." Sherlock said, after five minutes. The silence thickening the tension. He didn't know what to say. How to say everything without sounding rude? "And your sure?"

"Yes. Otherwise I wouldn't be telling you." John smirked. Sherlock however, seemed to be... _crying?_ John's stomach coiled, he was sure his heart was breaking. Getting to his feet he just stood, with his head down, fists clenching and unclenching in an off beat rythmn. He couldn't believe what he'd done. Had he just ruined their relationship? How could he have been so-

"Of course you bloody can." Sherlock managed before standing to his feet. He initiated a quiet hug with John, who accepted it. "I don't even know why I'm crying, I feel happy."

"You do know people cry when their happy too." 

"Do they?"

"Yeah, cause I am too." John said, pulling away to reveal his tear stained face. Both men entering a giggling fit like they used to all those years ago. Sherlock put a tentative hand to John's cheek as their laughter drew to a close. Their lips touching, foreheads resting against each other. The world felt good.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"IF we put a G7 in directly after the G it would give it a vibe." Atlas laughed, smiling as Sammy played just that. Together, they were writing music, happy upbeat music. The violin remained untouched for the time being, often coming in later - if at all for this particular song.

"A vibe?" Sammy laughed, before Atlas nodded. They went through the first verse again before there was a quiet knock at the door.

"Hey Ro." Atlas smiled before the younger girl slipped in.

 _What're you doing?_ She asked with her eyes.

"We're writing a song." 

Rosie tilted her head sideways. _Can I help?_

"If it's okay with Sammy."

"Do you want to help us?" Sammy smiled, cottoning on to what the question might be. Rosie gave a little nod before clambering onto the bed. Sitting crossed legged she created a triangle, a mass of scribbled, writing and chords making up a song. 

"I can't think how to do this bit." Sammy said as he kept playing sections of the chords over and over again.

"Riff." Rosie said quietly, looking up at Sammy who gave her a little smile. The boy had been informed of Rosie's unusual speaking habits and that he should not be alarmed if she did not speak. More so if the family had conversation with her and she didn't seem to speak. His eyes went wide before settling and she looked at him directly. "Do you have a riff?" 

"Uhh yes. At the very beginning. With the verses." Sammy replied, before Rosie clapped her hands together.

"You can use it in the chorus." She smiled, her top teeth sucking her bottom lip in habit.

"If we oomph it up a little." Atlas said. "That's such a good idea Rosie! It could sound so cool."

"And it works. You know, if we change the order of the chords underneath, the pattern can stay the same with different notes." Sammy said, lighting up as he played out the riff in the different pattern.

"How'd you know what a riff is, Ro?" Atlas asked.

"You and daddy are always going on about them. Only you guys call it an ost-, osk-, ora-."

"Ostinato." Atlas finished for her. "It's called an Ostinato in classical music." There was a pause. "Hey, Ro?"

"Yeah?"

"How come your okay with Sammy?" Risky question.

"You trust him?"

"Yeah, course I do."

"Then I do too."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ROSIE'S speaking to Samuel you know." John sighed, smiling as he sat down opposite his partner. He smiled slightly as he eyes him up. Sherlock's hands were placed in thought, chin resting lightly. An eye flicked open and tracked John as he sat. He went back to his thoughts, John eagerly reading his book. However, this didn't last long as he looked up to see Sherlock looking directly at him.

"Are you OK?" He asked, Sherlock blinking an obscene amount of times as he stirred from his mind palace. 

"Mmm." Was all the reply John got.

"What are you thinking about?" John asked carefully, unsure if Sherlock would just brush it off and walk out the room. He often did that when faced with questions he really did not want to answer.

"How do you want to get married John?" Sherlock asked quickly, his eyes still trained on the man in question. John blinked quickly.

"Uh, I don't think I understand your question." John said, giving a confused smiled.

"Registry or big fancy thing with...well with people. How do you want to do it?" He asked, frowning as if the question he had been trying to ask was obvious.

"I don't know." He replied honestly. "How would you want to do it?"

Sherlock just shrugged before looking at his lap. "I don't know if I'd be okay with people looking at me."

"You were alright at me and Mary's wedding." John said, before stealing himself. Sherlock had closed his eyes. And it came to him. He wished he'd seen it but he hadn't. He'd been so late. _Too late._ "You weren't okay."

"No." Sherlock squeaked. "I loved you then. Always have. Since Barts." There was a light chuckle before it died. 

"We'll do it how you want." John said kindly. "To be honest with you, I wouldn't be surprised if we wanted the same thing."

"No, that's not fair. We probably won't." Sherlock insisted shuffling in his seat. "Your getting married too." John slipped out his seat, and pulled the puffet up to opposite him. It was new, a buy of Sherlock's for Rosie to sit on or for John to put his feet up. 

"I don't want to get married in a big fancy wedding if my partner is not comfortable with it." John smiled. "You can say you would be all you like but I know you wouldn't be. And neither would our daughters." John put a hand up to Sherlock's cheek and held it. Playing the daughters card was always the best way to do it.

"Why don't we have a happy medium?" Sherlock mumbled, John tilting his head to one side. "We get married at the registry office with Rosie and Atlas."

"And your parents." 

"Mrs Hudson."

"Yeah. I'd need Mrs Hudson." John smiled. 

"She's like another mother for me." Sherlock agreed.

"She's the closest thing I've got to a mother. Aside your own, who is my mother-in-law but in my years of knowing her has become very important in my life." John smiled, Sherlock giving a little smile.

"She is pretty amazing." Sherlock said, giving a little laugh.

"Yeah. She is isn't she?" 

"You think?"

"She made you. How could I think otherwise?"

A little while later they were talking into more detail about they wanted to do it. An after party for certain relatives and friends. Sherlock made a note to talk to John about Harry. He deserved at least one family member at his wedding. Maybe he could push him to reconcile things with Jo. Maybe not.


	12. Sarah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is so badly written. Ughhh kmn.
> 
> Also, comments much appreciated.

A knock on the door startled the trio before John popped his head in. He watched as Rosie was in the middle of Sammy's legs that he'd had crossed. She was strumming as he manipulated the chords on the fret board. Giggles and smiles as the girls exchanged a look before they looked up.

"They're here. In the living room. We'll be heading out in a few." John smiled before dipping out. Eventually they exited the hallway and moved into the living room.

"This is my friend Sammy." Atlas smiled as she introduced him to her grandparents who smiled at him. Rosie running out and giving them a hug.

"Nice to meet you." Timothy smiled as Wanda began a conversation with Rosie. Sammy gave a shy smile before himself and Atlas exchanged a look.

"You guys aren't..." Sammy said, his hands waving around as he tried to find a word. They were not like Sherlock or Mycroft anf that confused him. "I'm trying to find the right words without offending either party."

"It's quite alright. We know what you mean." Wanda smiled, before she put Rosie down on the floor.

"Shall we go then?" Sherlock asked, everyone nodded before they moved out the door and started along the street. Mrs Hudson looking after Redbeard for the day.

"So Sammy," Wanda began the boy looking over to her from where he was walking with Atlas. Wanda, Sammy and Atlas were walking in a line. Sherlock, John, Rosie and Timothy a few steps ahead of them.

"I understand your attending college this up coming year. What's it in?" Wanda smiled.

"Same course as Atlas. English Literature, History and Politics." He replied quickly. "No good at sciences." Atlas and himself exchanged a laugh.

"Sammy is into music too." Atlas said before they continued along.

"Music in the family?" Timothy said, shouting backwards.

"Sort of. My mum isn't super musical but from what I know my father wasn't."

"Past tense." 

"Out of the picture since I was a child. Although, my love for music only got stronger when my dad...yeah." Sammy said looking toward the sky.

"When he moved in." Atlas smiled, linking his arm. 

"I'd like to meet the man some day." John smiled, back before Atlas looked over to Sammy apologetically.

"Sammy's dad died just a few weeks back." Atlas quipped as they continued along the pavement. Everyone went quiet before they kept going, nearly at the cafe. When they got there, they all sat around the table. It was a large table to best accommodate the group of 9.

After the meal, they headed for the park, despite Mycroft's endless grumbling - which eventually subsided when he saw how happy Rosie was to run off some steam. Laughter filled the air as Sherlock helped Rosie up onto a large spider, climbing up a little.

"We're going off on a little walk. We'll be back here in a while." Atlas smiled, before her and Sammy headed off.

"In forty five minutes!" John shouted before Atlas flashed a smiled back at them. Before he looked back to where his youngest daughter was being lifted up by his fiance. Eurus was sat off to the side, pen in hand with a little notebook - from here he could tell she was sketching. Mycroft sat next to his mother on a bench near where John was sat with Timothy.

"Your so good with her." Timothy remarked, John looking at him quickly. "Atlas." John raised his eyebrows. "You are, the things she's been through. And your there through all of it."

"Sherlock is too, more so infact." 

"No, no I know that Sherlock's there." Timothy said, smiling. "But I'd say your pretty even split to being there for her. She looks at you the same way as she looks at Sherlock. She loves you."

"I don't kno-"

"Of course she does." Timothy smiled. "As much as Sherlock loves Rosie, as much as you love Sherlock, as much as I love Wanda."

John gave a little grunt, smiling before looking over to Sherlock again who was sat on a piece of rope, Rosie a few more above. A few minutes later and Sherlock came over, deciding that himself and John would go and get some strawberries from the stall that was on the other side of the park.

"I didn't know Sammy's dad had died." Sherlock remarked as they were half way across the grass. His hands clasped behind his back, John's loosely hanging at his side.

"I thought you'd maybe deduced it and hadn't told me." John laughed before it died in his throat. He squeaked a small "sorry" before looking at Sherlock who was smiling.

"No, he's good at showing very little emotion. But Rosie trusts him, so he's past that test." Sherlock laughed before linking arms with John. They get to the stall and stop at the end of the queue. It was long, but they knew the wait wouldn't be too bad. 

Sherlock took his gloves out his right coat pocket and pulled at them. The leather stretching out after he's been forced to wash them a few days ago. John kept his eyes ahead, watching as a young woman was stood in front of them. She glanced behind her swiftly and locked eyes with him smiling. Sherlock looked up momentarily, giving a small smile. He looked down again fiddling with his gloves as a nervous habit.

The girl smiled at John again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her green eyes shining in the sun light, dark hair shoulder length and straight. John smiled again before thinking of how to strike up conversation.

"Its a nice day." John said to the woman, Sherlock's head snapping up unbelievably fast.

"It's nicer than it was yesterday, however it is 56.78% cooler due to the wind. The temperature is 17 degrees, not unusual for this time of year, particularly not for the seasons we're going through. The chance of rain is 47%, less than yesterday, but still enough to merit you wrangling our five year old into a jacket she didn't want to wear and boots. In addition to this, we can expect a cold night with overhanging fog, not much in the city though." Sherlock babbled half in-audibly, looking skyward. His dark curls showing hints of lighter brown throughout before he looked back to his gloves, shook them and replaced them in his pocket.

"And you managed to tell that all from...what?" The woman asked, Sherlock looking up with ferocity. Reading into every line of her face, coloured speck in her eye. Flirting. It looked as if she was flirting, not with himself but with John. Next to him, John smiled before Sherlock looked at him. But he couldn't read him. He couldn't tell if he was into her aswell. Couldn't tell anything because his mind was so caught up on him _not_ spiralling out of control.

"Observation." John supplied helpfully, Sherlock taking a breath as he looked off into the distance where he could just see Atlas and Sammy. She waved to them and started heading in their direction.

"I'm a weather presenter. That's why I ask." She said, frowning. 

"How's your husband?" Sherlock asked quickly.

"My, my husband?" She swallowed, John throwing Sherlock a warning look.

"Does he know? Have you told him yet that he's being cheated on. Don't suppose you have gathering by the train ticket in your back pocket. Hair brushed, but only this morning. Ran late to getting to this park, only to find your sweetheart followed you. Childhood sweetheart, sorry my bad." Sherlock spouted, the woman's face screwing up in horror.

"Sherlock-" John began, unsure why Sherlock was behaving so inappropriately.

"Your children don't know, think your on a business trip. Your from Salsbury, don't know how you have all the time to be a weather presenter. Oh maybe because your not. Maybe because your a supply teacher after being found to have an alcohol problem. Oooh, the school don't know do they? Well I'm going to tell you that they do and that they will be sending you a letter to say your fired."

"Sherlock!" John shouted angrily, the younger man turning to look at him. The crowds around them looking momentarily before rejoining their conversations. "Enough." 

"But I-" Sherlock began, the woman taking her leave in front of them. She looked like she was going to cry.

"I don't care." John scowled. "You can't just do that." The older man took off after the woman, in an attempt to apologise. Sherlock was way out of line.

"John. John, where are you going?" Sherlock called but it was too late.

"What've you done now?" Atlas asked, jogging up to him.

"I don't...I don't actually know."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"HEY! Hey! Hold on." John said jogging to catch the lady up, she stopped and looked at him. "Look I'm really sorry."

She let out a long drawn out breath, before John led her to a park bench. 

"My partner, he doesn't...he doesn't really know how to be around people. It's just something he struggles with." John smiled, taking a seat on the bench near her.

"Its alright. Autism or something?" 

"No. No, nothing like that. He just is. Social issues, that's all." John said, his mind pursuing another very probable idea. _Social anxiety. In some people this is genetic and studies have found people with parents who have anxiety are more likely to themselves. Atlas has it, does Sherlock too? The signs are there._

"Ah." She said quickly, looking at him. Carefully she wiped at her eyes before looking over to John. 

"I really am sorry about him." John said, a hand being placed on her shoulder. 

"Thank you." She sighed. "The alcohol is only recent."  
John sat in silence, awaiting for her to continue. "I lost a baby." She blinked a few times. "A few months back and ever since then, the alcohol has looked _really_ nice. Looked lonely."

John sighed, sitting back on the bench, legs crossed.  
"I was like that. After my wife passed away." 

"Oh." She said quietly. John smiled at her.

"Anyway, I best be getting back." John sighed getting to his feet, whilst the woman scribbled a number onto a piece of paper.

"The names Sarah." She said presenting the piece of paper, John giving a laugh.

"John." He smiled, taking the piece of paper. He flicked it over in his hand, the name written on the back of a business card. Sighing he thought of the last time he had been given a phone number in a romantic way. By Eurus. And then his mind went to Sherlock. That brilliant man, who'd he'd promised to marry, to love. The man he was so in love with that it ached. The children he had with him that made their house a home.

"Sorry." He said, handing the piece of paper back. "I'm taken."

"Right." She said looking at the floor. "With him?" 

John gave a chuckle. "Yes. And it's the best feeling ever."

"Well, have a good life." The woman smiled before John watched as she walked out the park. He turned on his heels and made his way back to where his family (plus Sammy) were sitting, eating strawberries on a large picnic blanket.

He kneeled next to Sherlock, squeezing his shoulder tightly. Sherlock looked at him once, with that look in his eyes. The one he couldn't quite place. And that scared him. 

But it excited him more. This man who was a mystery waiting to be solved and helped. And he knew that he was the only one who could.


	13. Introvert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pinch the lyrics and I hunt you down.

"SAMMY'S mum will be here in a few." Atlas said walking into the living room and sitting down on the piano stool. Sammy coming in to sit on the floor by her feet. Sherlock standing looking out the window, John sat on the sofa with Rosie. Timothy and Wanda were staying with Mycroft for another day before heading home.

Food had been eaten - _devoured_ \- and Atlas and Sammy had been chatting in her room. The clock was approaching 7 and Rosie would soon be being chased off to bed.

"Shall we do that duet thing then?" Sammy asked Atlas as he pulled out the guitar from where it was sat. 

"Yeah sure." Atlas smiled, before she looked at him. "Do you want me to improvise some stuff over it on the piano for now? Or just leave it?" 

"I don't mind, I mean we have a riff." Sammy smiled, Atlas nodding as she sat on the piano stool. She would not play, she would not muddy the waters of his talented playing. At some later date, they may record the song on Ableton Lite that she had on her laptop, running violin over top. For now, it would stay a pretty acoustic number.

John put the book he was reading to Rosie down, as Atlas allowed Sammy to sit on the chair - herself standing to his right. Sherlock sat down on the sofa, not close enough to John as normal. Ever since that woman, ever since John had _followed_ said woman he was nervy. Couldn't tell if John had liked her. And it startled himself to find that he was doubting everything he was. Doubting if John was bisexual, if it would last. If there relationship would last. Would John love him forever? How could John love him after all those stupid, terrible things he'd said?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly missed his daughter beginning to sing, Sammy already having progressed through the riff.

_People keep asking me  
Do you wanna see a movie?  
I don't really wanna go out  
So I keep telling them_

_People keep asking me  
Do you wanna come for tea?  
I don't really wanna go out  
So I keep telling them _

The pattern changed and so did the lyrics and key.

_Sorry, no I don't think I'll come over  
I think I'll sit and wait till the rain has passed _

Then the riff became developed and deeper. Sherlock could hear the use of the G7 as Atlas sang her way through the chorus.

_Oh summer, please be over soon  
So I have an excuse  
to why I won't go outside_

_'Cause inside, I'm better off inside  
Watching my inside world go by  
Telling stories from my mind_

_Da da da da da da da da na na na na_

Just as she was coming to the end of the chorus the doorbell rang, Sherlock jumping to answer it. He made his way down the stairs, the sound of the song continuing upstairs. Surprise hitting his face when he heard a male voice harmonizing - the surprise settling when he realised it was Sammy.

"I'll get it Mrs H." Sherlock said getting to the bottom step and jumping over Jem. Jem had arrived recently and had taken to lying on the bottom step, prompting everyone to watch her. If Mrs Hudson spotted her she would lift her up and carry her off to be pampered somewhere else.

"Ugh, Jem!" She scolded. "What have I told you?" She picked her up and flounced away as Sherlock pulled open the door with a smile.

"Ahh hello. You must be Leanne Walters." Sherlock smiled opening the foot and beckoning her in. He shut the door with a soft click and put an arm out to show her up the stairs.

"Hello dear." Mrs Hudson smiled, the cat still hugged to her chest. "I'm coming up."

"I'd put Jem down first." Sherlock warned, looking at the cat. "She was up in our flat an hour back and I think Redbeard scared her by wanting to play."

"Alright dear." Mrs Hudson smiled putting the cat down which resumed her place on the bottom step. 

"Sorry, she's our landlady." Sherlock smiled, whilst the tired looking woman began her ascent again.

"She seems lovely. I assume your Mr Holmes." 

"Sherlock, please." He smiled. _This is good right? This is what I'm supposed to do? Why couldn't I just let John get the door?_ "They were just showing us the song they've been working on." 

"I can hear." Leanne smiled before she made her way up and into the living room. She was faced with a little girl of no more than five, prancing about the room. A dog lying by Atlas' feet, her son playing the guitar and a gone grey haired man sitting on the sofa.

_Da da da da da, da na na na_

And the song ended. Bouts of applause as Sammy looked up to see his mother.

"Hello." John smiled, standing and taking Leanne's hand. "Nice to meet you." Just as Sherlock slipped through the door and scooped Rosie up into his arms. A fit of giggles as Atlas plonked a little melody on the piano.

"Yeah, that would fit." Sammy smiled, before Atlas returned one. "What if we put a melody in that bit too?"

"Seems like they have more to do. Would you like some tea?" John offered, Mrs Hudson looked him up and down as if to say _you wouldn't._

"I wouldn't want to impose." Leanne smiled, looking over fondly at her son.

"Oh no, no it's fine." John said before Mrs Hudson gave him another look and sighed.

"I'll put the kettle on." Mrs Hudson said, going through into the kitchen. 

"I'm a fan of your work, both of your work. The team." Leanne smiled, John nodding and looking over to his fiance who was playing with Billy. Rosie sat in John's chair, the skull popping up and making weird noises.

"Ahh, yes thank you." John led her through to the kitchen. "I don't know if Sherlock will be joining us. He's more of a child than an adult."

"Oi! I heard that." Billy said - or rather Sherlock said - the skull popping up over the piece of furniture once again.

"Please take a seat." John smiled, the woman sitting down. Her hair was gold blonde, tight curls and fashioned back in a big clip. Hair upwards.

"Rosie has insisted she read Redbeard a book. So I am free to come over." Sherlock said, plonking into the chair next to John.

"Behave." Mrs Hudson scolded whacking Sherlock with a tea towel, a laugh forming in Leannes throat. A smile on John's lips.

"Redbeard's the dog I assume." Leanne said, hands clasped on the table.

"Yes, yeah. Rosie does nearly everything with him. Redbeard can't come, Rosie is less likely to go - unless of course we find a way to distract her." John laughed, Sherlock now smiling too. Mrs Hudson went through to the living room where she could listen to the music and Rosie's story. At least, that's what she claimed. In reality, she wanted to leave the parents to speak.

"You know, Atlas is a good kid." Leanne smiled, listening to the music. "A talented kid no less."

"Yeah. She is that." John smiled, thinking about every single thing she did every day that made her so wise and so clever. Way beyond her sixteen years. "Sammy's nice too. He came at a time when I think Atlas really needed a friend."

"Atlas came when Sammy needed one too." Leanne said, looking at the ring on her finger.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Sherlock said quickly, Leanne looking up at him sharply. 

"How-"

"Before my lovely fiance can spout to you some endless rubbish about him deducing it. We were told this morning." John said.

"Spoil sport." Sherlock hissed teasingly, arms folded over his chest. 

The kettle clicked as it announced it had come to boil and Mrs Hudson bustled through. 

"How do you take it?" Mrs Hudson asked, a hand on her shoulder. 

"Black." She smiled before uttering a "thank you" when the older woman placed it on the table before giving it to John and Sherlock. She collected her own before disappearing out, her voice joining Rosie's in telling Redbeard a story.

"Is it Rosie as in Rosie Watson?" Leanne asked, sipping her tea.

"Watson-Holmes." John quickly supplied. "We're just waiting for confirmation." There was a brief pause. "Why'd you ask?"

Sherlock gave a loud huff, that prompted John to shoot him a look. "I'm sorry. Sherlock here probably already knows the answer but is being polite for once."

"Its alright. I'm a primary school teacher. I saw my class list for next term and I saw a Rosie Watson. I'll make sure it gets changed to Watson-Holmes, provide it's her. Reception?" Leanne asked, her cup now half full.

"Yes." Sherlock answered for change shuffling in his seat uncomfortably. He understood why all these years he had preferred children and animals to humans. They were less likely to judge him - unless they were John. Suppose that's why it came as a surprise the first day that Sherlock had a full day to look after Rosie.

_John shuffled his way up the stairs, each step harder than the one before. Tired eyes scanned the hallway before he glanced at the clock on his wrist. 6:45pm. He'd only asked Sherlock to sit with Rosie through till 5pm. She was barely even two and half and a handful at that. John's best friend also had presented a dislike to human behaviours over the years so he nervously anticipated what he might see when he opened the door._

_"Sherlock?" John asked quietly, just incase Rosie was sleeping in her cot in the corner of the room. He sighed as he entered putting down his stuff and looking around. Looking across the room anticlockwise he saw that the couch was empty, he was not at the window, or the desk or indeed his own chair._

_He was sitting in John's._

_There on his chest Rosie slept on, fingers clutching at his shirt. Dark curls hung low as Sherlock's face pressed lightly into her curls. From here John couldn't tell if he was sleeping, but on closer examination he confirmed that he was._

_Collecting his blanket, he draped it carefully over his best friend and sleeping daughter. He stopped. He looked. And he loved._

Back in the present, John thought of what it would have been like now. If only then he could've kissed him awake and his daughter. How wonderful would the world have been? How perfect?

His thoughts drifted to Mary, his eyes dropping to the floor. He thought of her and how amazing she would've been as a mother. No one would ever replace her as that. And no one was trying to. But he had an army to help Rosie through it all. He thought of Atlas who would no doubt help her through all the things a girl needs - although a small part of him hoped that Rosie would feel just as able as Atlas to talk to them about it. Then he thought of Mrs Hudson, how she would help Rosie unravel her homework if she got stuck on something about politics or something to do with the current world. Molly was there as the closest female figure she was going to get to a mother. Greg as someone who had a really _really_ exciting job. Then there were Timothy and Wanda who adored her and she adored them equally as much. Mycroft who was partial to letting her bake with him and Eurus who was happy enough to play, read and paint with her.

 _And then there was Sherlock._ Her _dad._ The person who was allowing Rosie to grow up with two parents, with a family. And god if he didn't love Sherlock to the ends of the earth in that moment. 

Stirring from his thoughts, he came back to find Sherlock and Leanne in pleasant conversation. The younger man had been acting strange since the incident at the park. Not right now, _obviously._ But earlier, when they're alone. John made a mental reminder to ask him this evening.

"I best be off." Leanne smiled before her chair scraped back. She shook hands with Sherlock, then with John.

"It was nice to meet you." John smiled before showing her out as Sammy packed up his guitar, leaving the room.


	14. No Sleep For The Troubled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning for nightmares!
> 
> And also, it would be appreciated if you read the note at the start of this story - it might help you understand what's coming up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its rubbish. Kind reminder again that I am not in the English school system, but the Scottish. I would also like to say that, I do not know the whole Upper Sixth/Lower Sixth idea. 
> 
> In my story, Atlas is a early learner, studying in Upper Sixth (allowed on due to her smarts) and is taking four subjects. As Atlas has come from Edinburgh, she studied under the Scottish school system and so therefore she has had to change over. Now, If i am correct a GCSE is the same level as a National 5. Which in Scotland is sat across the ages of 15 and 16 - some (like myself) will start that year being the age of 14. You then progress to sit Highers which are the same level as an A-Level at 16 and 17 - again some (like myself) will start the year being 15. An Advanced Higher is the same as 1st year university and to get into University generally requires just highers.
> 
> In conclusion, in this story, Atlas can already attend university and because she already has some A-Level level qualifications she is allowed onto the courses at the college - as it would have been perfectly fine in Scotland. Also common.
> 
> As another little note, often in Scotland you will have someone who turns 17 before another in the same year has turned 16 - so a 15 and 17 year old in the same class. This happens with all age groups and is to allow for people to attend school when they are ready to.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed your lesson on different school systems! Enjoy!

RAGGED breaths filled the silence followed by a quiet whimper. Sherlock's eyes strained through the light as he tried to catch his breath. Bolt upright in bed, his hand on his clothed chest, tears in his eyes. His hand moved from his chest to his hair, both hands pulling at his curls. He let out a shaky breath, his head hurting - he couldn't tell if it was pain or if it was because of the heavy tears now running down his face. 

John slowly stirred, sitting up slowly on his elbows. He saw Sherlock hunched over on the bed, head in hands. The light from outside flicked through the window and around the room, illuminating them slightly. Carefully John sat up and rubbed a large hand up and down his back.

"Sherlock?" John whispered, head resting against his shoulder. The man let out a whimper. "Shhh shhh. It's okay." He took more harsh breaths. "Breathe, just breathe. I'm here. Breathe." He sobbed as his breathing slowed, John kissing his shoulder. "Its alright." He continued to rub his back, before Sherlock calmed down. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Sherlock shook his head before lying back against the pillow, John leaning on his elbow, rubbing his chest with gentle fingers. 

"Are you sure?" John prodded once more before Sherlock rolled onto his right side, his back to John. The older man sighed before he went for one last attempt, his arms wrapping around Sherlock's torso. His hands rubbed his chest before he heard a small sob.

"Its okay. Sherlock, please let me in." John said into his neck, a foot rubbing up and down Sherlock's leg. It was now he was thankful he had worn his fluffy socks. Sherlock would've had more reason to pull away if his feet were cold.

"Did you like her?" Sherlock questioned, John rubbing his chest again. 

"I don't follow." John said into Sherlock's neck, breathing in his scent. Basking in his warmth.

"That woman. I didn't mean to be rude. I didn't mean to upset her." He whispered, John nuzzling his neck.

"I know, love." John whispered, Sherlock letting out a little sob in the small silence that follows. "I didn't like her." There was another little cry. "She offered me her number, but I gave it back." John rubbed his chest.

"And you didn't want more?" Sherlock whispered.

"No." John said, Sherlock making another sound. "Of course I didn't. I have you." Sherlock rolled onto his back, John shifting to allow for it. "Was that what you were worrying about all day?"

"Yeah." Sherlock whispered, John lying a hand on his chest "I'm scared it's never going to happen, scared this isnt what you want. Scared that all this is not going to last." His momentary babble stilled before he drew a long breath. "I'm _scared_ John." 

"Its what I want." John admitted, lying on his side as Sherlock wriggled forward - his cold feet intertwining with John's fluffy ones. He lay his cheek near John's chest and breathed in sharply. "And I love you, Sherlock. You don't have to be scared of it not lasting because I want it to last. As long as you do to, it _will_ last. It will."

"That wasn't what the nightmare was about though." Sherlock sighed into John's chest, listening to his heart beat. There was a comfortable silence as John waited for Sherlock to continue and say what else he had to say. 

"Where'd you go?" John asked soothingly, Sherlock looking up at him with those pale eyes. John placing his hands either side of Sherlock's face, the pads of his worn thumbs brushing his cheeks.

"Serbia." Sherlock replied quietly. "I'm sorry. There not nearly as bad as yours. I should be better." Pause. Sherlock looked at John in horror before burying into John's neck. "Did I say that aloud?"

"Yeah." John laughed, before it died in his throat and he answered Sherlock's concern. "Your nightmares are allowed to be bad Sherlock." Pause. "You were tortured, you spent so much time watching me hurt to keep me alive, you have a brain that runs ten times the speed of light-" 

"That-" 

"Let me finish." John scolded, hands back to being placed on the sides of Sherlock's face. "You watched your own daughter get shot and nearly die, you've battled your sister, Moriarty and Magnussen to name a few. Hell, Sherlock. All I've done is been to a war."

"And watched me die." Sherlock whispered regretfully, his eyes shining with tears. "You battled all that too." John just nodded before they hugged under the covers and John kissed Sherlocks forehead. "I could never have done all of that without you." 

"Tell me about it." John laughed, something stirring in Sherlocks own chest as he laughed. "I love you."

"I love you too." Sherlock replied, kissing John lightly on the lips before falling into a fitful slumber.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"YOU'VE got to be kidding me." Atlas moaned the next morning as she pulled open the cupboard door in the kitchen. "Pa! We're out of granola again!" She heard John sigh as he came through, fixing up his tie. 

"Keep it down." He scolded before going over to see why she was making such a fuss. "Why are you up so early anyway?"

"I'm meeting Sammy at the library at about 8 and then we're going over to the college together. You know being in the same class and all." Atlas sighed as she turned to the bread and toaster instead. "My English class is busy, Politics is quiet and History is about medium for their average." She popped the toast in, John continuing to listen as he pulled on his suit jacket and pulled out his satchel. He wondered how she knew but dismissed it knowing she was in google teams and that it displayed the number of students per class. "Sammy's in all my classes and in the same PSHE class and stuff. Only have to go in on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday really. Think most of Upper Sixth are required to do that, the year is quite small. I mean, I do have classes on Thursday and Friday but they're free's and study's so we're allowed to go to the school library and the one on the other side of the street."

"And how do you know all this?" John asked.

"I emailed them. Coming from the Scottish school system hasn't helped. It's so different and its confusing that I'm in upper sixth. They must have seen my results from last year and thought that I was good enough or something. Maybe because Higher's are the equivalent of A-Levels and I've already sat some of them." 

"Some?" John asked, realising he'd never had this conversation with Atlas before.

"Yeah. Didn't actually do my S5 as it's called, just did my S4. But four of my subjects I sat at higher level instead of National 5 - like GCSE's." Atlas said, John's face painted in confusion. He was thankful that his family weren't planning on moving into any other school system anytime soon. It then came to him that there was a question he could ask.

"What subjects did you sit at higher then?"

"I did Maths, Music, English and Biology." Atlas smiled, before looking at the ground. "I would have done it in Politics too but my teacher sort of hated me, and unfortunately the same applied for my history class."

"So that's why you wanted to do the English Literature, History and Politics course. To bump yourself up a bit." John smiled, Atlas nodding as she chucked some books into her bag and pulled the tie.

"Sort of. That and I didn't want to end up with dad all day." Atlas laughed, John joining her as he pulled a packet of just-add-water porridge from the cupboard. Her face screwed up as he poured hot water from the kettle into the porridge.

"Stop making that face." John said, Atlas only screwing her face up even more as she looked at him. "Its lovely." 

"It's repulsive." A tired, deep voice said coming into the kitchen. Atlas looked up at her dad, John throwing him a look.

"See?" Atlas said pointedly, her toast popping as she threw Sherlock a "Thank you."

"I'll give you a lift." John said as he picked up his satchel. "We'll leave in fifteen." He said as he went over to the desk to get his laptop.

"Redbeard!" Rosie shrieked running into the living room with one sock on and one sock off. Her hair was all knotted, a dog toy in her hand as she bounded towards him. 

"You left this in my bedroom, Red." Rosie said giving it to the dog who took it and looked at her. "Paw." She instructed, the dog giving it to her eagerly. John watched as she walked into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. He followed her in.

"You woke me up!" Rosie said teasingly, looking so like John as she prodded Atlas. 

"We've run out of granola." Atlas supplied, assessing her purple and yellow tie with scrutiny before tightening it. The uniform had been posted to 221B in the last two days and it wasn't too strict. They could wear black jeggings/jeans (or skirt) with either a polo shirt or shirt and tie. Then they could also have a blazer. Atlas being her father's daughter obviously went for a blazer and tie, a pair of black jeans to finish off. She liked it, it made her feel clever.

"Papa!" Rosie exclaimed, looking at him pointedly. She liked granola, Sherlock putting a hand on top of her head. 

"I'll get some on my way back from work this evening."

"Its alright. I can get it when I take Rosie to nursery this afternoon." Sherlock said, his fiance looking at him with eyebrows that said _as if._ "I will. I promise." Sherlock approached John as he put the bowl of porridge in the sink. He kissed him lightly on the lips, John putting two hands on his chest. Rosie gave a very loud _"ewwww"_ that made it sound like she had caught them doing something highly inappropriate, causing an eruption of giggles.

"You got your lunch?" Sherlock asked his daughter who nodded as she put it in her school bag. They had agreed she would take a pack lunch to avoid the very possible over stimulant of the canteen. That and Sammy had said he would be doing the same because he didn't want to go into the canteen and face people. Especially because it had been a while since he'd seen some of them - due to his dad's death. 

"Right, come on Atlas. Time to go." John smiled, before crouching down to say goodbye to Rosie. Exchanged another kiss with Sherlock and headed out the door to the hallway. Atlas gave Rosie a hug and found herself standing opposite her dad.

"You can do it." He smiled before drawing her into a hug. "You know you can."

"Love you." Atlas smiled before she left and followed John out to their car. A nice and small black fabia - perfect for parking in London - that they had recently traded due to the previous car having engine and chassy problems. Another car however, was needed. A family car that was big enough for all of them (and the dog) to go on holiday. That was part of the surprise for the new house. Sherlock had already expressed an interest in a black 4 door Land Rover Defender. She was impressed with him, having thought he would have wanted one of the older models with two doors. However, it proved to her that he was, very much, thinking about the future. 

Little did she know, but Sherlock had also expressed an interest in a little second hand citygo by Skoda. He was well aware they were little bit off time for Atlas learning to drive. Yet, he wanted to be prepared. He'd already spoken to John about it.

She sat quietly in the front seat as John drove to the library which was closer to his work than what he had realised. 

"If you need anything, you can call us." John said as he pulled into the car park next to the library. "Okay?" 

Atlas nodded once before looking at him. She was nervous but surprisingly excited at the same time.

"Love you." She said before kissing his cheek and hopping out the car. John watched as she walked over to Sammy who was sat on a bench outside. The boy's face illuminated and they exchanged a hug and John felt his own face tearing into a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop.


	15. SHARE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upper Sixth are given their sex ed talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning that there are slight mentions of sexual nature throughout. More however, in the next chapter. 
> 
> This is cringey.

"NO. I can't do that." John insisted, putting his hands out on the lunch table.

"Your the only one without patients that day. That's why we have you on four appointment days and one "free" day." The man said, over his lunch box, his hands out. He was the man in charge of everything from timetabling and when certain people did what. Oversaw all the doctors and things like that. "Your the only one."

"No. I can't do that to her." John said as he poked at his yogurt with a spoon.

"Her?" The other doctor asked, John pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah. My daughter, eldest, has just started there. I cannot go and do a SHARE talk to them. Especially not to the upper sixth form class, which is her year."

"I didn't realise you had two daughters." The man said, eyeing John up.

"Yeah. I'm going to adopt her. She's sixteen, but bright so they allowed her in the year above." John smiled, thinking about Atlas' face when he would tell her. He just didn't know how to yet, a conversation with Sherlock was therefore in order. "See? I just can't do the talk." John insisted again, looking up at the man pleadinlgy. He should just not have looked up because he was met with an equally pleading one.

"Fine." John said clipping the lid on his lunch box and standing up.

"If it's any justification, I don't think you would have been far off that talk anyway." The man said - or rather Dr Irvine said - John shooting him a look before returning to his office. Plonking into his chair he looked at the clock and sighed. It wasn't long until his next patient.

Now he was faced with a dilemma. To tell Atlas or not to tell Atlas. Tell Sherlock? He'd have to. Especially because they'd agreed to being open from now on. It's also not something that Atlas could deduce before it would happen. Sighing he sat back in his chair as he pulled up the timetabling on his computer. He looked at the photo he had on his desk. The new one. One of them all on Christmas, at Wanda and Timothy's. Atlas was stood at John's side, his arm hugging her shoulder, Rosie looking sleepily at the camera from where she was held up on Sherlock's hip - the green of Jeff just seen. They were all smiling. 

There used to be a photo of Mary. But he'd long since moved it. He would never forget her, could never forget her. But this was his life now. He didn't want to look at the photo of his family then over to her and be reminded of those times. In all honesty, he didn't believe it was fair to anyone.

It was now, as he thought about Mary, he thought about what he would have done. All this time he'd believed that he would have stayed with her, loved her and Rosie, gone to see Sherlock on a weekend. But recent weeks had shone a different light on the scenario. As he thought about it now he came to the realisation.

_He would have left her._

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SO we were told in our PSHE class today that we're getting a talk or something tommorow." Atlas said over tea that night, John nodding with the most neutral face he could muster. "Sex Ed or something like that." Rosie munched happily away at some carrots, oblivious to the conversation. Sherlock looked over to his eldest who was eating away, before catching her eye.

"What?" Atlas asked sharply, looking at him. 

"I forgot." Sherlock just replied quickly, Atlas looking at him with a furrowed brow. They loosened when she realised. She nodded once, putting a hand on his shoulder. John watched their silent conversation, smiling to himself.

"You guys shouldn't be so worried to talk about things like that with me." Atlas said, looking at Sherlock who was to her left and John who was opposite her. "I know its normally the responsibility of the mother but like...I don't have one. Me and Rosie, we need you guys to talk to us about those things. It's not awkward. I don't care. So long as you try." 

"I don't see why we can't." Sherlock smiled as he looked over to John, then to Rosie who was nodding enthusiastically. John sighed before nodding, looking over to Sherlock who looked (unfortunately) just as scared as he did. But they had to. It was their jobs now as parents. Would it have been easier to talk about those things if they had sons? Yes.  
But does that change anything else? No.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE room filled with every Upper Sixth student that attended the small college. It was a large-ish room filled with row upon row of tables and chairs accompanied with school cleaner and varnished flooring. Multi-coloured tape in lines. Atlas and Sammy were among the first few in and made their way quickly to the back few rows, sitting down promptly. An endless clunky of school bags and chair legs as the chatter began. Sammy sat on her right, being the only person each other cared to engage with. However, on her left a different girl, someone she'd hardly spoken to. Atlas flicked her eyes over the girl before flashing a smile. 

"Abayomi Aduba." The girl smiled, holding out her hand, Atlas taking it with a smiled.

"Abayomi." Atlas said with perfect pronunciation. "Meaning pleasant meeting and from Yoruba, Nigeria." Abayomi gave a smile at that, the dark of her skin reflecting under the light. It was now, when Atlas looked, she noted she was a very pretty girl. Dark eyed, dark haired and a smile that moved through her eyes and fo her ears. "Atlas Ho-..." She began before stopping and looking at Abayomi. "Atlas Watson-Holmes." There was a brief pause. "This is my friend, Sammy." Atlas elbowed him and he looked round and smiled at Abayomi.

"Samuel Walters." He said presenting a hand and shaking hers before they all looked across to the others in their class. "What do you take?" 

"Biology, English Literature and Art." Abayomi smiled before looking over to them. "You guys?"

"Both of us are taking the exact same subjects." Atlas smiled, before looking over to Sammy.

"History, Politics and....English Literature!" Sammy exclaimed, Abayomi laughing as they looked at each other excitedly. "Although, Atlas over here is too feckin smart for school and is taking Maths aswell, even though she already sat it at Higher last year along with English, Music and Biology."

"You definitely sound intelligent." Abayomi smiled, before pulling a pen out her school bag and putting it on the desk. She wore a skirt instead of trousers, her tie neatly fixed round her neck.

"Thanks." Atlas smiled there was a silence. "Hey Aba?" Her head swung around fast. "I can call you that right?" Aba nodded once before Atlas continued. "Me and Sammy are headed for the library after school, do you want to join us?"

"If it-"

"It's perfectly fine." Sammy reassured, shuffling in his seat as their head of year popped up at the front of the room, now packed so full of Upper Sixth that Aba, Atlas and Sammy were all sharing a table like many other groups of three.

"So today is the final talk you lot are ever going to have on SHARE. I know that it is probably the last thing in the world you want to do, however, it would be much appreciated if you give our guest some quiet to do the talk. We will also be covering sexual abuse stories but we will give warnings and you will be allowed out if required." There was a brief pause, some shuffling before the man who was doing the talk stood up in front of the room. And Atlas sighed.

"Oh piss off." She whispered, her forehead making contact with the table with a quiet thump. Sammy and Aba sharing a smirk with one another.

"Atlas." The teacher warned before shooting her a look. Atlas did not make eye contact with John. She looked everywhere but at him as he started up the slides.

"I'm Dr John Watson and I'll be teaching you about SHARE." He didn't need to look for Atlas. He could see her, sat near the back with a smiling Sammy and a girl he did not recognise. This was going to be hell when they got home, absolute _hell._ Atlas' face when they got home, the potential war, Sherlock already knew and he wasn't prepared for the fallout between his partner and daughter - it was especially _not fun_ when they were two, absolutely brilliant minds. "Now first of all, let's play a quick fire game." 

Atlas audibly groaned a "here we go" and was promptly shot another look.

"We need this." John said, brandishing a multi coloured soft ball from the bag on a table nearby. "Do not mess around. First, your going to throw the ball around the room, saying each others names, before saying a random fact you know about the human body."

"This'll be fun." Abayomi hissed from the back, somewhat excitedly. Atlas giving her a small nudge. "What?"

"That's my pa." Atlas whispered in her ear, Aba's eyes going wide before she sat back in her seat. Exchanging a look with Sammy as the game began.

The first person to be thrown the ball, was a tall blonde boy who had divorced parents. "12% of people dream in black and white." 

"Good, good." John praised before the ball was thrown again.

"Sophie." The boy said before the girl caught it and thought a moment.

"Your taller in the morning." There was a pause as Sophie scanned the room. "Kit." She said, the ball aimed for a ginger.

"You body has more than 600 muscles." He said before adding, "Abayomi." 

Aba caught it before looking at Atlas who folded her arms over her chest and scowled.

"You have approximately 1000 different types of bacteria on your skin." Aba said, John smiling. His daughter chose her friends well. Aba then lobbed it at a dark haired boy called Peter who smiled. The ball continued to make it's way round the room.

"Jessie."

"Isla."

"Alex."

"Lynne."

"Robbie."

Then it went to Sammy before continuing.

"Lucy."

"Faye."

"Catriona."

"Cale."

"Jemma."

Jemma prodded the boy next to her before saying. "Xerxes." 

Xerxes looked over to Sammy, who gave a small smile. They had become acquaintances over that morning when they literally ran into each other. He'd said he was sorry, before noting that the dark haired, dark eyed boy was actually deaf. So he signed his apology, having picked up quite a lot of British Sign Language when he was younger. However, it had been a while and he wasn't sure he had gotten it right, yet Xerxes still looked at his gratefully.

It was now, that Atlas noted that his translator was not there in the room with them. Sammy and her exchanging a knowing look. She'd considered learning some from Sammy but Sammy hadn't given it any further thought. However, she knew that watching Sammy and going home and watching videos would get her there. And without sounding snobby, it wouldn't take her long. Odd that his translator is running late though, considering this talk was going to be rather important. She looked around the room a little before deducing that the lady was simply running a little late. Sighing, Sammy signed to him the question John had asked a few minutes before.

"You have one dominant nostril, and it changes every few hours but we do not notice this." He signed and spoke - not great speech but it still made a contribution. Sammy gave a little smile before reciting what he had signed. John watched in a little bit of awe, before realising he should not, even a little bit, be surprised. Sammy was a bright kid and he could've sworn Atlas saying something about his aunt being deaf.

Xerxes made eye contact with George, a boy opposite side of the room, nodded once before throwing. The other boy catching with ease. Some of them had said something that was really a misconception over the human body and it was now that George continued to do the same.

"We have no use for our appendix." He smiled, John giving a small curt nod.

"That's not entirely true." John said. "Some studies suggest that it may be used as a place to store bacteria."

"Gut bacteria. A reserve incase of illness." Atlas said quietly before the teacher gave her another look. 

"Sorry?" John said from the front of the class, Atlas' head snapping up incredibly fast. What was he doing? Asking her questions? People would know who she might be.

"I'm sorry Dr Watson. Our student, Atlas, sometimes forgets to be quiet." The teacher, Mrs Pertwee, said her gaze directed towards Atlas. 

"Other animals have it too." Atlas added, Upper Sixth looking towards her. The head of year looking like she wanted to just go on an all expenses paid holiday to Nice and drink cocktails on the beach. Pink bikini's and surfboards.

"I'm sure Dr Watson already knows that." Mr Fraggerty, her history teacher added warily, already understanding of Mrs Pertwee (one of the English teachers - not Atlas') wrath.

"He doesn't." Atlas whispered quietly, the spectacle becoming quite entertaining. Her new found friend and Sammy sighing in tandem as they looked at her.

"Atlas, I will not warn you again." Mrs Pertwee scolded, John staying well and truly out of this all. Due to himself and Sherlock becoming increasingly high profile only a handful of teachers knew they were Atlas' parents. Despite this, Atlas insisted that she keep her last name. A little piece of something that was undoubtedly, and truly her own.

"Alright. I'll say my piece and then I'll get out." Atlas said rising to her feet, looking John dead in the eye. His face was frowning, but she could see that his eyes contained something akin to pride and happiness. "The appendix has been revealed in recent studies - as recent as 2017 - to have evolved over 30 separate times, over a variety of mammals. They also found it never disappears once it has appeared in a lineage. This particular study was carried out by Heather F. Smith Ph. D and she studied in depth a variety of variables that could contribute to the appearance of an appendix or without one. The results of this allowed them to disband previous hypotheses but it also brought them to some answers. They found that within species that contained an appendix there are higher concentrations of Lymphoid - also known as immune - tissue found within the cecum - the bit the appendix is actually attached to. This led them to believe it was a secondary immune organ and was important for housing beneficial gut bacteria like I said. Also different shapes of cecum has been found to partially contribute to whether an animal is found to have one. They suggest that the appendix does not evolve alone but instead with the cecum as a "cecoappendicular complex."" She took a breath, eyes watching her. Classmates watching her. John watching her.

"I really am sorry Dr Watson. It's only her second day here and she's already creating us problems." Mrs Hoolie said, from her position against the wall. She didn't even teach Atlas and she felt as though she were being ganged up on. She looked up at John, who remained quiet.

Atlas collected her bag from under her table before she looked over to her teachers and smirked. "Oh and my fact was that, sulfuric acid dissolves human tissue approximately 0.345% faster than hydrochloric acid."

"How can you know that?" Faye asked, her blue eyes wide from the other side of the room.

"Yeah. I thought that was an almost impossible test." Xerxes signed.

"I did it myself." Atlas replied, John sighing, his eyes saying _of course you did._

"Atlas. Out now." Mrs Pertwee insisted before John put his hand up.

"No." He replied quietly. "Let her stay."

"Dr Watson we can't al-"

"Can't what? Tolerate the behaviour of an inexplicably smart sixteen year old. Who isn't even the right age to be in Upper Sixth?" He asked, the ball being thrown to him by Xerxes again. The teachers remained quiet. "I did not know all that about the appendix. I also did not know that about human tissue. Now, so long as..." He paused, made it obvious he couldn't place her name. Atlas sighed before adding.

"Atlas."

"Atlas here continues to give me her very valuable input, she can stay." John said, before Atlas gave him the kind of look that said a hundred _Thank You's_ but still contained an _imma kick your ass._

The talk continued, Atlas sitting back down, whilst the gaze of her peers and teachers lingered on. And Atlas thanked her lucky stars that her pa, was one hell of a father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The facts that are said by some of the students are correct and some are myths. The myths and misconceptions came from this website: https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.breakingnews.ie/world/7-myths-about-the-human-body-that-are-often-mistaken-as-facts-866673.html
> 
> The fact said about the human tissue by Atlas is made up.
> 
> However, the things she says about the appendix are real and I gathered the information from this website: https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2017/01/170109162333.htm
> 
> I also want to express, that I do firmly believe that Mary may have done something else that was reckless and stupid. May even have gotten herself killed another way. I believe John would have potentially left her and (most likely) have been given custody of Rosie. Personally, I feel like the lies would get too much, or she would go on the run again.
> 
> I don't hate Mary. I really like her. It's just that I feel the marriage between John and Mary was sort of for all the wrong reasons.


	16. Mrs Pertwee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oop. This is bad. Hope you enjoy tho...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again. I'm no doctor.
> 
> Absence seizures and a shit teacher...you know. If any of that's a trigger.

JOHN'S talk was beginning to draw to a close when Atlas finally brought up the courage to look him in the eye. The look lingered a moment before it broke and she sighed. He was doing a similar talk to Lower Sixth after lunch and he'd already said that he would pick her up this evening and drop her with the others at the library. She hadn't understood _why_ originally, only put it down to cancellations. Of course she knew _why_ now though.

The bell rang and with ferocity the year began to collect their things as there was a round of applause for John. It wasn't so much that Atlas was embarrassed that her own dad had given her _the talk._ More so that he had stood up for her, when really she should have left the classroom.

"A word, Miss Holmes?" Mrs Pertwee said, the _Holmes_ bringing Atlas back down to earth with a painful reminder that John hadn't adopted her. Soon, Sherlock, John and Rosie would all be Watson-Holmes and she'd still be Holmes. Just Holmes. Atlas nodded once, before collecting her bag and issuing no goodbye to John as she left. Just a sad, sorry smile that left John confused and upset. Had something happened he hadn't seen? Then he supposed it was probably because she was mad at him.

Lead through the hallways to Mrs Pertwee's classroom, Atlas looked at her watch.

"You'll get out when I say." Mrs Pertwee said, before gesturing for Atlas to come inside. She stepped into the small room, glancing at the wallpaper, the photos, the shoes, the phone number scrawled on a post-it next to the phone, the metal filing cabinet, the yellow handbag. Now she turned her attention to Mrs Pertwee. The tied back hair in a clip, the cold brown eyes, the harsh makeup that did nothing to flatter her old age wrinkles. "Sit." Mrs Pertwee instructed and Atlas did so, the minutes of lunchtime running away. Silence filled the room as Mrs Pertwee pulled out her pasta and began to eat, Atlas shuffling in her seat in nervous habit. "Holmes."

An uncanny pause before Atlas prodded. "Yes?"

"Why's it your last name?" Mrs Pertwee said, eyeing her over her square glasses.

"Same way as yours is Mrs Pertwee." Atlas smirked, deducing the woman's marital status. "Gifted from my father." 

"Don't be cheeky." Mrs Pertwee scolded, Atlas sitting back in her chair. "Not many people wear the name Holmes." 

"No." Atlas said sharply, before looking up at the woman. "They don't, Alison." There was an unsettling pause. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"My..." Mrs Pertwee swallowed, a moment of fear covering her eyes. "Loss?"

"Your husband and daughter." Atlas said quietly, looking up at her. Mrs Pertwee looked at her fiercely, before dropping the look. It was impossible to be recognised in this attire and get up. _It just wasn't possible._

"Thank you." Mrs Pertwee said harshly, standing. Atlas glanced around the room again before coming to the realisation that Mrs Pertwee was infact one of the head of years for Lower Sixth. Oh, that explains the office. "Are you a Holmes?"

"I'm not sure I quite understand the question." Atlas remarked.

"Are you a Holmes?" Mrs Pertwee insisted, Atlas looking at her once before choosing to not answer. "Are you or aren't you related to Timothy Holmes?" Okay. So not the question Atlas was anticipating. A _are you related to a Sherlock or Mycroft Holmes_ could be anticipated. Other than that, was not. 

"No." Atlas replied sharply, unable to trust Mrs Pertwee. "Even if I was, I have no reason to trust you." 

"Why would you need to trust me?" Mrs Pertwee glanced.

"I always have to trust people, Alison. I'm seriously surprised your not more of an advocate for trust." Atlas sneered looking over to her. "That husband of yours, ouch." 

"You have no right." Mrs Pertwee sneered before looking at her. Another silence ensued. Lunchtime beginning to draw to a close.

"I have every right." Atlas said in the silence before getting to her feet minutes before the bell. No lunch today then. She sent a quick apology to Sammy who sent a smiling emoji before a see you next period. It was English with Miss Frobisher - who so far had only _applauded_ Atlas on her writing abilities.

"Detention. With me after school. You may leave now." Mrs Pertwee said, Atlas getting to her feet and leaving her room. The hallway was packed with school children and Atlas navigated her way to her next class. And John watched from afar. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE next day brought a bigger problem. Second period. Miss Frobisher had not yet turned up. Five minutes later and in came Mrs Pertwee with her yellow handbag. Sitting on a row of three, Atlas was sat with Sammy and Abayomi. The trio having still gone to the library the night before, but later than expected. Mrs Pertwee having confiscated her phone before she could send a hurried text to John explaining that she would be late.

"I want you all to start writing a short story." Mrs Pertwee said, from the front of the class. Noisy chatter filling the room. Atlas remained quiet and still. Mrs Pertwee's gaze ran over all the students before landing on Atlas. "Atlas Holmes!" She shouted among the noise. "Be quiet and move seat to over here." She gestured to the lone seat at the back, Atlas picking up her things.

"She wasn't saying anything." Abayomi protested, before shrinking with a glare from Atlas. Her eyes said _'let me take this, I deserve it.'_

Ten minutes after the class began and her page of writing was being ripped into shreds.

Seventeen minutes after the class began and she watched as the pieces were sprinkled onto the floor.

Twenty minutes after the class began and she was issued a detention.

Twenty one minutes after the class began and Sammy and Abayomi were issued a detention too. Loyal friends.

Twenty four minutes after the class had began and she experienced a short absence seizure. Unnoticed.

Thirty four minutes after class began and Mr Fraggerty came into the classroom and asked to speak to her. 

Thirty five minutes after the class had began and she was really hoping Mr Fraggerty - the only teacher who she really trusted and liked - would take her up to his class. 

Thirty seven minutes after class began she was back inside the room feeling like she was going to throw up.

Forty minutes after the class began and she was standing up in the classroom explaining meter. 

Forty two minutes after the class began she was running down the hallway her bag on her back.

Forty three minutes later and Sammy was chasing after her as she made her way to the clock tower.

Forty six minutes later and Sammy was standing opposite his best friend in the whole wide world who was freaking out because she'd never done that before.

Running out of class. Running away from things.  
A Holmes didn't do that. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS appeared in detention that evening, no text to John again. Drumming in her ears. Silence. 

"And we're all in detention because -" 

They were required to, amongst a few others, recite the end.

Abscence seizure. But on new medication. Must be really anxious. 

"What?" Atlas said blinking, Sammy looking at her with a furrowed brow.

"What? Did you not listen to a word I said?" Mrs Pertwee insisted. Atlas looked up at her with big blue eyes. She looked at Sammy once Mrs Pertwee's back was turned. Sammy was the only one to know about them. Atlas mouthed seizure. Sammy sighed.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THURSDAY brought a day of study period's and free periods to an emotionally defeated Atlas. Gathering her things the next morning, she collected her stuff and left before anyone could see her. Before Sherlock could deduce. Before John could ask.

John heard her leave, started in bed and sat up. Sherlock coming out of their en suite.

"John?" Sherlock asked from the door, toothbrush still in his mouth.

"Was that Atlas leaving?" 

"Probably." Sherlock sighed. 

"Something's up." John announced, swinging his feet off the bed and going past Sherlock to stand in the bathroom.

"Nothing's up, she's a teenager." Sherlock said coming over to the sink, spitting into it. 

"Sherlock." John said sternly. They'd had a similar conversation the night before.

"Just stop making problems where they're aren't any." Sherlock said, about to leave the bathroom. However, a gentle hand on his wrist pulled him back to opposite John who was frowning.

"Sherlock." John said, Sherlock looking at him. "There's something wrong, isn't there?" Sherlock didn't speak. "Monday she was happy and bouncy. Tuesday night she was okay, but that was probably my fault. And god I think she's still pissed at me because she hasn't said two words to me since then. And last night she didn't eat tea or play violin when you offered." 

"I see all the clues. I just..." Sherlock sighed, running a hand over her face. "I just don't have the emotional capability to get it right." 

"You do have the capability to get it right. I think we're just both afraid of getting it wrong." 

"She's been through so much shit because people keep getting it wrong." Sherlock added.

"We'll just keep an eye on it, yeah?" John asked, Sherlock nodding as John brushed a stray hair off his forehead and kissed him lightly. Their foreheads eventually coming to rest against one another.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS resigned to her bedroom Friday evening, sitting in the quiet. Thurday, had been difficult - more "chats" with Mrs Pertwee. She'd spent a heap of time hiding away in Mr Fraggerty's store cupboard at the back of his class. There, he had assembled a work desk for her to use. Now, in the Friday night light, she was running through everything in her head. She thought her mind was indestructible but Mrs Pertwee had managed to break her down in four days. _Four days._ Before her a jumble of torn up paper, her phone lying still on the desk. 

Rosie appeared at the door at roughly 7:15pm and proceeded to look at her. Must be saying goodnight, not bothering to look. But yet she lingered. Her prescence distracting her. Her thoughts getting in the way. Everything getting in the way.

"GO away Rosie!" Atlas screamed at the five year old who had come in again that evening. Normally, she would be welcoming, allow the younger child in. But this page of work. The little pieces torn infront of her. She'd worked so hard on it and Mrs Pertwee had just said it was a disgrace. Called her in privately period 3 and spoken to her. Told her to rip it up. No witnesses. Rosie stood by the door, quiet. Atlas' eyes softened at the sight of her, though turmoil still boiled in her blood.

"At, I'm your sister." Rosie said quietly coming up towards Atlas. Blue eyes wide with concern. Rosie put her arms around Atlas but that only prompted the older girl to shake her off.  
"Atlas. Let me." 

"No, let me go. I'm not your sister." Atlas said, trying to pry the young childs fingers off of her.

"Atlas!" Rosie screamed back.

"I'm not your sister. John doesn't want me. Nobody wants me!" Atlas shouted her voice hoarse as Rosie was knocked to the ground. She wailed, the sound not going unheard from downstairs. Sherlock and John making a speedy appearance as Rosie got to her feet and held her head, hot tears running down the young girls face. Atlas stayed where she was sat, her face blank. Nothing inside. Her brain was nothing, like Mrs Pertwee said. She was nothing. 

Help me. I'm drowning.

John and Sherlock came into her room, faces painted in an unknown emotion. Lowering himself, John looked to Rosie who was still clutching at the back of her head.

"Shhhh." John soothed as he took her into his arms. "Now what happened?" 

"Just leave me alone." Atlas whispered, turning her head away, resting it on a clenched fist. "Please." John and Sherlock exchanged a look. 

The pause was long. Neither father knowing how to approach the situation. However, Sherlock took the lead, walking over. Standing infront of her, he took her in his arms, her temple resting by his stomach.

"Just breathe. It's okay." Sherlock muttered, hand on the side of her head. John came over with Rosie, kneeling before her. 

"I want you." Rosie said quietly, wriggling out of John's grip a little. 

"What's up?" Sherlock asked, coming down to kneel next to John. But Atlas wouldn't say, wouldn't even speak. Couldn't remember what was what the difference Mrs Pertwee had said to her and what was real. Was she being manipulated? Couldn't tell.

But she knew she was crying. The hot tears streamed down her face, her vision becoming blurry.

"Come here." Sherlock said, Atlas slipping off her chair and burying her face in Sherlock's shoulder. Strong arms around her shoulders and she could feel John and Rosie hugging her too. 

"I'm sorry we keep getting it wrong." Sherlock sighed into her hair. Tears stinging his eyes.

"It's alright." Atlas said. "It's not that. Just something happened at school. It's sorted, I'm just tired, that's all." Sherlock just rubbed her back, kissing her hair. He rested his cheek on her head.

"Dad?" Atlas asked.

"Yeah?" 

"Do we own the trees next to the driveway too?" Atlas asked, looking up at him.

"Yes. We do." Sherlock smiled, John looking at them with a furrowed brow.

"Are you two going to keep teasing me with hints?" John asked, Atlas and Sherlock laughing.

"Yep." Sherlock said, popping the 'p'. 

"Your going to like it pa." Atlas smiled.

"Also, I should have mentioned John. Me and Atlas have to head over to do some stuff over there tommorow. Not like I just got confirmation that we have bought it." Sherlock laughed, John giving a soft smile.

He couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it seems all over the place. 
> 
> It sort of is because I cba about 5 minutes into writing it. I'm down for the idea.


	17. Olive and George, Josie and William

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already figured it out, I don't edit these. 
> 
> Also, this is not very well written and more of a filler with some fluff and humour to pass the time a little bit in the story.
> 
> Not far off the big reveal I think of the house.

"HURRY up." Sherlock whisper shouted to Atlas who was still at the top of the stairs in the flat. She grabbed her jacket and hauled it on, memories of what had happened over the past four days shoved to the back of her mind. She traded carefully down the stairs until she nearly ran straight into her dad, who was standing on the second from bottom step. Looking down at where Jem was lying curled on the bottom step.

"Do I pick her up?" Sherlock asked, Atlas shrugging. She gave him a look.

"Your more of an animal whisperer than me." Atlas said before she watched her dad pick up the cat.

"Hello." He said quietly before traversing to one side to allow for Atlas to get past. It was no surprise that the cat had taken to him, animals always did. It was now, when she thought about it, that she realised Sherlock liked the animal kingdom because they never judged him. They were the first to love him and the last to leave him. Putting the cat down he left the house and shut the door, the 7am breeze hitting their faces.

"We can't drive there." Sherlock said, just as Atlas was approaching their car. "John might need the car. He said something about walking Redbeard with Rosie."

He started off down the pavement towards the Baker Street tube entrance. Sighing, she followed on, jogging to catch him up.

"Where we going to?" Atlas asked as she fell into step with him. 

"Come on deduce it." Sherlock smirked, Atlas rolling her eyes. She scanned him for evidence of where they might be headed. 

_Pocket? Bulky. Outline of key shape. Not house key due to formation of key ring, had these keys a while._

_Walking speed? Brisk, but not hurried. Okay to be late, not great if we're really late._

_Past the tube. Not going on it. What's in the immediate vicinity?  
• Car manufacturers  
• Shopping Centre  
• Tesco Express  
• Enterprise Van Hire _

_Gloves? Not in coat pocket._

_Square shape? Wallet. No, dad doesn't have a wallet. He has a weird card thing. Driver's license and card._

_Eyes? Excited._

_Information already gathered? House has been bought. Needs doing up. Bill Wiggins lives nearby. Dad mentioned him once. Greg does too._

_Phone? Just went off in his pocket again. Vibration. Two seconds later, a second message. Molly. Always sending seperate texts._

_How long until we can move into the house? Not long. Now that the buy has been confirmed. It's ours - aside the mortgage._

_Car? Dad said something about getting a new car. A land rover. A family car, he had said. Keep the current car for trips into the city itself._

_Tweet alert. Thought phone was on vibrate. Eurus._

"Figured it out yet?" Sherlock asked, pulling Atlas out of her thoughts as they waited to cross the road. She shook her head before looking back again.

_Direction. Enterprise Van Hire. Why would we need a van? Usually a movement of large o-_

"Got it!" Atlas exclaimed as they began to cross the road, the people around them looking at them. Confused.

"Well?" Sherlock asked.

"We're going to the van hire. Normally, a van would mean movement of large objects. So we're going to the storage unit that is filled with things left to you by family members. Once there we collect various items. However, I assume we're hiring a large van so then we will go over to Homebase because I assume - from the amount of texts you've received - you've been building an army. So we're going to be doing up the rooms, with the help of our friends and family. It should take approximately a week to do everything - of which I will drag Abayomi, my new friend, and Sammy with me to help. I know they won't spill it all to John." Atlas paused, looked skyward.

"And next weekend, I have the van hired again to take stuff from Baker Street." Sherlock smiled, Atlas smiling back.

"I know the army consists of Eurus, Greg -"

"Who?" 

"Lestrade." Atlas sighed, mentally face palming. "Molly. But who else?" 

"Mycroft, Timothy and Wanda are coming along towards the end of the week and then seeing as me and Sally Donovan have been getting along recently. She said she'd come too." Sherlock sighed. "Eurus is in charge of the painting and colour and detail. I've put you alongside her and Wanda. Like a project manager." They laughed. "Greg, Timothy and Sally are really there for the hands on approach. Don't know why I asked Mycroft to come around, he'll probably just sit and dictate to us all."

"Probably." Atlas said as they found themselves in the Enterprise Van Hire driveway. Walking inside, the man at the desk nodded and Sherlock walked over to him.

"Name?" The man asked, Atlas coming to stand next to him.

"Holmes." He said, the name dying in his throat. He very well couldn't say Watson-Holmes for A) he was not yet married to Doctor John Hamish Watson and B) his driver's license was down as Holmes - although he believed he could ask for a new one with Watson-Holmes once he was married. The double barrel name rolled off his tongue so easily. The man behind the desk nodded and disappeared into the office to collect the appropriate paperwork.

"What you said last night," Sherlock began, treading the waters lightly. A ripple could knock her boat. "You do know I want you too. And John does, he just doesn't know how to say it yet. Okay?"

Atlas nodded once, not sure what he meant. The evening before was now just a blur, she'd erased it from the hard drive. Maybe she shouldn't have.

"Holmes." The man said as he reappeared. "Can I see your drivers driver's license please?" Sherlock took his wallet out and pulled out his driver's license, paper knocking to the floor. Atlas stopped and collected it. Looking at the photo that was printed.

"It's of me." Atlas said quietly, Sherlock plucking it from her fingers. "I'm seven. It's th-"

"It's the last school photo I took you to." Sherlock smiled putting it back in. "Yes."

"Aww. You are a softie." Atlas smiled, elbowing him in the side. 

"I'm not a softie." Sherlock scoffed.

"You are so." 

"Am not."

"Are so."

"Am not."

"If it's any justification Mr Holmes." The man from behind the desk said. "I believe you are, for you just handed me a photo of a very cute child with blonde hair and not your driver's license." 

Sherlock's cheeks went scarlet as he took the picture of Rosie back and slipped it into his wallet. He pulled out his driver's license - double checking that it truly was the driver's license - and handed it over. Atlas wore a victory smirk before the keys were eventually handed over. 

"When do you need it back by?" Sherlock asked, holding the keys in his hand.

"Noon on Monday." The man replied smiling, before Sherlock set off with Atlas towards the van they were to be hiring. It was bigger than Atlas was expecting but it was essentially a moving van and she smiled. It was suddenly becoming very real.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"RED door. Blue door. Red again. Ooh that one's grey. White. White. White. Well, that's a row of boring people." Atlas said looking out the window as the world passed by. She was declaring the colours of people's front doors to Sherlock, her elbow leaning on the ledge by the window. 

"I have got eyes, love." Sherlock said, the _love_ running off his tongue before he could stop himself. He went red for the second time that morning and Atlas looked back at him. 

"Did you just call me love?" Atlas asked, somewhat smiling goofily as they arrived at some traffic lights. Sherlock tapping a weird rythmn on the steering wheel.

"I don't know what your talking about." Sherlock said looking dead ahead, Atlas doing the same. Until, not even a moment later, Atlas looked to him and they began to snigger before it evolved into a laughter.

"You know, I don't mind it." Atlas said after their laughter had died down. "Just don't go calling me something weird like pumpkin pie or honey. Definately not honey."

"Sweetheart?" Sherlock asked, Atlas smirking.

"Yeah, that's okay. But only use that when I'm like, really, really ill. Like, I'm gonna die ill. Or, when I'm really sad. Or just when your being affectionate." Atlas tried to explain. "Basically, yeah, it's fine just don't overuse it."

"Underdstood." Sherlock laughed as they pulled into a place called Jackson's Storage. A pretty boring name, however, when they got further down the road, they had to stop, a large red barrier marking the official entrance. They came to a stop and Atlas watched as Sherlock dropped the driver window down.

"Name?" 

"Holmes. William Sherlock Scott Holmes." Sherlock recited, Atlas glancing around her. It was a high-end facility, only the wealthiest would be able to afford. The wealth of themselves, was debatable in itself. Sherlock had an inheritance, left to him by Lady's and Lord's for grandparents, he'd stored money away on several occasions for various different reasons. One, was for buying a house.

"Who's this?" The man asked from the other side of the window. 

Sherlock sighed. "I did inform the head of the facility I would be bringing my daughter." 

"Ah yes. Says here. Can I get your name please?" The man asked, leaning in closer to the opened window on Sherlock's side.

"Holmes. Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes." She said, it rattling off smoother than it ever had before. 

"You'll be needing storage unit number 456." The man said before Sherlock smiled and they were allowed through the barrier. Sherlock followed the signs to the section that they needed. More and more garage doors to add to the maze before finally, he stopped, deducing where 456 was. 

Getting out Atlas watched as Sherlock inserted the key into the lock.

"Dad?" Atlas asked coming around to where he was putting it in. He looked up at her. 

"Yeah?" He asked, pausing his right hand movements on the lock. Atlas stopped. She knew what she wanted to ask him, but whilst they were standing outside a storage unit was maybe not the best.

 _What would you say if I was Watson-Holmes too? Would that be okay? Should I ask John? I just don't want to get left behind._ Was what she _didn't_ say.

Instead she said, "Nothing, just wondered where you were." Sherlock nodded once and before long he was pulling open the unit. Inside, was a variety of things that had sheets of clear plastic overtop that made the place smell clean and look tidy.

"Where'd all this come from?" Atlas asked, looking at Sherlock as he stepped inside and flicked on a switch. 

"Your grandparents and your _great_ grandparents." He said before he pulled the plastic off a large item at the back. Atlas navigated her way through various high quality pieces towards the back of the unit. There, uncovered and in all it's glory was a king sized bed. Dark brown wood made up the bed which had a headboard and a bottom to it. Along the bottom, carved vine leaves emphasized the woods natural movement and curved down the sides up to the headboard. The headboard was embellished in a similar way and Atlas' jaw just dropped.

"It's amazing." Atlas smiled, running a finger over the soft wood. It would need a bit of a clean, but that shouldn't take too long. "It's truly beautiful."

"I just hope John likes it. It was your great grandmother Olive's." Sherlock sighed before he looked at everything else. And then Atlas noticed the very large problem.

"I'm not strong enough to carry half it's weight." Atlas said, looking at Sherlock guiltily.

"Do you seriously think I didn't think of that?" Sherlock asked. "Two of the guys who help out around here are going to come over and give us a hand when we're ready. But there's quite a bit more yet."

Atlas nodded once. Sherlock led her over to a bookcase on the adjacent side, which was adorned with the same vine and leave pattern. It would go beautifully with the bed in their bedroom.

"I know what your thinking." Sherlock sighed. "But, I want it to go in your room. If you want it of course, by the window seat." 

"Really?" She exclaimed looking up at him. 

"Yeah, course." Sherlock said, putting an arm round her shoulder. "Your the bookworm." Atlas laughed at that.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ON board the van was a variety of different items to best decorate their new home. Amongst the jumble of items were the bed, the bookcase, a few boxes of sheet music, a child's bed that had been his own and would now hopefully be Rosie's, his grandfather George's violin, his grandmother Josie's standing clock, the train set his grandfather William had made him before his death and some other bits and pieces of furniture. There were other, smaller mementos too such as a first edition of 'Wuthering Heights' past through his family, the set of letters past between his grandmother Olive and grandfather George during one of the many wars - he couldn't remember specifically which and the watering can used by the Holmes family in tradition when they planted the first new seed in the garden of a home.

As they got in the van, the waved goodbye to the two men who had helped load up the van and set off for the new house. Atlas looked out the window the whole way there as she added details to her map of London that she contained within her mind palace - which was and always had been, a library.

Pulling up outside the house they saw the parked cars of their family and friends. Getting out, Atlas saw the proud faces watch Sherlock.

Sherlock, the man they thought was never capable of love. 

Sherlock, the man they thought would never be loved properly.

But mostly, Sherlock, the man who deserved to be loved. 

_And was._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of calling the house:
> 
>  _Firewood Cottage_
> 
> Or,
> 
> _Rosewood Cottage_
> 
> Or,
> 
> _Woodsong Cottage_
> 
> Or, 
> 
> _Whittlesea Cottage_
> 
> I think I like _Whittlesea Cottage,_ but I also don't know whether to make it that the house came with that name or not. 
> 
> 🤦🏻
> 
> 🤷🏻
> 
> Or, 
> 
> _Whitesea Cottage_


	18. Because I Loved Him More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Enjoy! 
> 
> Again, I don't edit these!

"SO, wait." Greg said to Molly who was standing outside his hotel room door. She'd arrived just two minutes earlier with an unnerving spring in her step and just spent those two minutes speed telling Greg about what Sherlock had said on the phone. "Your telling me our sociopathic best friend who somehow has a lovely family of his own, has bought a house?" Molly looked at him and nodded once, biting her lip. Greg, who until this point had thought Molly was pulling some really good (for once) practical joke, sighed and beckoned her inside. He put the kettle on and continued to look at her like she had just told him of some miracle - then again, it _was_ a bloody miracle.

"Tea? Coffee?" Greg said in the dim lit hotel room. He'd been staying there since he'd split with his wife. His face unshaven, a beard seriously threatening to grow in an aging grey. Both his daughters, Amy and Louise, had stayed with their mother who basically owned the house they had been living in. Though she was in the wrong, Greg was the one living in a hotel room. Alone. And now, just that morning he'd been sent a message from his ex-wife saying she was moving to France with her new partner Tomaz and they were taking the girls. His little girls. He was going to lose them.

"Tea." She sighed, hanging her jacket over the back of the armchair. Sherlock said to be at the address he'd texted by 9:30am so they had a bit of time. "How are you?" Molly asked, looking up at him as she accepted her black tea.

"Good." Greg said falsely, not going unnoticed by Molly. Never going unnoticed by Molly. "Not good." He admitted after she had been sat for a minute and half with her _I know your lying_ face.

Molly sighed and moved her hand over to his, clasping it tightly.

"Greg." Molly said quietly, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. "Come live with me and Andrew for a while." 

"I can't do that to you, Molly." Greg insisted, Molly however, just shot him a look. 

"Don't be like that." Molly scolded, withdrawing her hand to take a sip from her tea. "And besides," Teacup still to mouth, "We're going to be needing some help around our house soon." 

Greg didn't think anything of it, before looking up at her sharply. "Wait," Greg paused. "Are you telling me what I think you telling me?"

"Yes." Molly smiled. "I'm pregnant." 

"Oh, congratulations Mol." Greg said getting up from his chair and hugging Molly tight. For a long time now, he had considered her as a sister, and she had considered him a brother. They were close and spent several hours of their time with each other on weekends. And Molly knew everything that was going on with his wife and most of what happened in his personal life.

"Thank you. Now, we've got a job to do. So drink your coffee." Molly said, the normal softness being replaced with something akin to an army officer. Stand in line and do your duty.

Getting his coat on, Greg picked up his phone and wallet before they exited the room.

"What's the house name?" Greg asked curiously.

"Rosewood Cottage." Molly replied, smiling to herself before she looked over to Greg. "I've got the directions too." He was smiling.

"Do you know anything about it?" Greg asked as he pushed the button on the lift.

"Only that Sherlock and Atlas need our help and that it's a big surprise for Rosie and John." Molly smiled, a pause for a comfortable silence. "Oh and that we're picking Sally Donovan up. Apparently, herself and Sherlock have been getting along recently. Which is, in all honesty, hard to imagine. I can't even imagine them having a civil conversation, let alone Sherlock letting her into his house."

Greg sighed as the lift went down the last few floors, and opened into the small reception of the low budget hotel. Exiting they made their way to where Molly had parked her car in the car park, hopping in.

"I still can't believe it." Greg said as they sat in their car outside the house that Sherlock had bought. "He actually has done it."

"To be honest, I never thought he wanted to." Molly said, thinking of all the times they were out and he deflected people.

"I knew he wanted to." Greg sighed, dipping his head to look out the windscreen. "I just never thought he'd find someone who loved him enough _and even more importantly_ love all his traits, good and bad." He picked at his tooth with his pinky finger before bringing his head back up again. His thoughts went to that night that he hauled Sherlock out of the flat - during the period where the man and John were on unsteady water.

_"Sherlock!" Greg said over beer glasses and bar stools being turned over. His speech slurred into a messy line. "You can't say that!"_

_"What?" Sherlock said, dark curls sweaty as he looked the pub. Largely empty. Not surprising for a public house in the middle of the country._

__

_"The sober you is going to hate drunk you." Greg slurred, Sherlock laughing before slumping back against the booth._

_"I love men!" Sherlock shouted, no-body else stirring amongst the drunks._

_"I think you two best go home." The bar tender said coming up to the booth, Sherlock looking at him with duck lips. Greg hauled him out and moved him towards the door, throwing some money to the bar man who counted it before smiling, having received more than required._

_"Ahh Gavin? Graham? Gertrude? No. I'll just call you 'Not My Division'." Sherlock said swaying slightly on the pavement before himself and Greg linked arms. "Your a good friend."_

_Friend. Friend. Friend. Sherlock had just called Greg a friend and suddenly the DI was filled with an unknown and inexplicable pride._

_"And I love men." Sherlock laughed again swaying some more, Greg grateful that it was from alcohol and not from something else. Grateful that his friend was not in his flat falling into the cave of drugs and cases to soothe his need for adrenaline._

_"As you've said." Greg said, coming to the realisation that he was significantly less drunk than Sherlock. One bet. The younger man would not have had much to eat, equalling no lining in his stomach._

_"I love John." Sherlock's mouth tumbled as they approached the end of Baker Street. The detective was no longer shouting, the alcohol making his lips looser._

_"I know you do Sherlock." Greg laughed, the detective's eyes going obscenely wide in surprise. "Oh come on. I ship it, Molly ship's it, Mrs Hudson, your parents as far as I know, hell Sherlock, even Mycroft ships it."_

_"Mycroft doesn't understand it." Sherlock sighed before giving a hearty laugh as they approached the straight knocker on the door._

_"You should give him more credit." Greg said before pulling the knocker and handing the drunk Sherlock over to Mrs Hudson. She flashed a grateful smile._

Throughout Greg's interlude thinking of the couple, Molly too ventured to her thoughts of them. She remembered a specific day that she spoke to John - not long after Sherrinford nearly five years ago. 

_"Hello." John said quietly as he entered the morgue to see Molly elbow deep in yet another cadaver. Bowls off to her side to be filled with organs that were to be tested or cut up by Sherlock. The latter was certainly more common now.ⁿ_

_"Good morning." Molly said, looking up briefly through her goggles. She tried to sound optimistic, tried to sound happy but John could hear the pain in her voice._

__

_"I know I'm probably the last person you want to see." He said, before making a careful and calculated approach towards her. It was slow, it was stealthy and it was the most army-like he had been in years._

_"Your not the last person I want to see." Molly said quietly, going back to taking the liver out. "Sherlock is."_

_"Right." John said approaching the bench, watching as she finally freed the liver and plonked it into a bowl on her left. "I'm here, speaking for him."_

_"Mhmm." Was all Molly's reply was. A mixture of contempt and hatred partnered with a little bit of surprise._

_"He had no choice Molly." John sighed, looking at his friend with hard eyes. "It was tell you or you die."_

_"Oh." She said, shock this time_

_"The criteria was definitely you, there were bombs waiting to blow up your flat." John said pleadingly, trying to make her understand._

_"Criteria?" Molly asked, looking up again at John._

_"Yeah...it was something along the lines of...not close with family, short, good with human death...can't remember any more of it." John sighed, Molly giving John a look. "What?"_

_"You know, John, there is more than just me who fits that criteria." Molly said smiling, before picking up her bowl of liver and beginning to walk away from him.  
"Who?" John called after her. "Molly, who?" _

__

__Molly rolled her eyes with her back turned to him, and left the room._ _

__

"Unrequited bastards." Molly said as Greg came out of his trance as well. 

"Both of them have thought for near on...well actually...I don't know. Years. That the other was never going to return their feelings." Greg laughed, hopping out of the car as the Enterprise rental van came into view.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"PAPA, papa, papa!" Rosie screeched running into his and Sherlock's bedroom, jumping up onto the bed. John woke quickly and looked at her concerned.

"What is it Rosie? Are you okay?" John asked quickly, Rosie coming to lie on him with her chin on his chest. She nodded, chin nobbly against his sternum.

"Daddy and Atlas have disappeared, Papa." Rosie exclaimed, John wrapping an arm around her back. 

"Remember, they said they were going to the new house." John said, Rosie looking at him wide eyed.

"I do! Papa! I'm excited!" Rosie exclaimed, rolling off of John's chest onto the bed next to him. John turned onto his side, elbow keeping him up. Hand on his head. 

"I am too." John said before tickling Rosie's tummy sending her into a fit of giggles. He himself laughed before blowing raspberries on her stomach too, making her laugh even more. 

"Papa." Rosie said, after she had calmed down.

"Yes sweetheart?" John said, the little girl looked up at him.

"Why don't I have a mummy?" A pause, her thinking face on. "Why doesn't Atlas have a mummy?"

John sighed. This question had been coming but he'd been hoping that it wouldn't come for a while longer, at least not until he could find a way to explain it to her. And worst of all, she was wondering what happened to Atlas' mother. How was he supposed to tell her that Sherlock shot his own wife? How could he explain that Sherlock was faced with the impossible? Atlas or Mary-Anne. His daughter or his wife. And in the end he chose to shoot his wife to save his daughter. 

"Which story do you want first?" John asked, sighing as he brushed a piece of long fringe out her eyes. 

"Mine." Rosie squinted before John gave a small sigh.

"Your mother, was a wonderful, amazing person."

"That's what everyone says."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I asked dad before. That's all he said. Asked Atlas. That's all she said. And they both said that I had to have the story told by you and no-one else." Rosie said wriggling on the bed then looking back up at her papa.

"Okay. Then, she was brilliant, she was beautiful and she saved people." John began, thinking of how to navigate it. A lot of their story would come later. There was so much to tell her about her mother that he wasn't even sure she would understand it in her twenties.

"Like you did. And like daddy does?" Rosie asked, teeth sucking her lip again.

"Sort of. Just your mummy-"

"Mother." Rosie corrected. "Dad calls her mother." John sighed, Sherlock and his politeness. He'd wanted Rosie to call her by mum, mama (as Mary had cooed to her as a child) or mummy. Not mother. The informal term boiling his blood just a little. 

"Your mother." John said, swallowing his anger to be dealt with later this evening when Sherlock got home. "Your mother, she had to travel the world and no-one really knew that she was doing it." 

"Okay." Rosie squeaked, Jeff clutched to her chest upside down.

"And so unfortunately, people didn't really like your mother." John said before realising that saying to a five year old that her mother was not liked by people. "We had you, but you won't remember her. You were too little." John paused. "I wish you could have met her."

"But how did she die? Why did she die?" Rosie asked impatiently before nudging John with her elbow.

"She died...saving dad." John said, giving a weak smile. _My Baker street boys._

"Why?" Rosie asked. It felt like her _Why?_ phase was lasting forever, but as Sherlock had reassured, Atlas had apparently been the same. 

_"We're raising curious children, John." Sherlock had said when John had asked about the why phase. Sherlock also said "We must not forget either, that Rosie was late to develop social skills."_

_John had bitten back with a "And we know who to thank for that." Looking at Sherlock._

_"What I'm trying to say John, is that Rosie is so interested in why things are the way they are, but have you noticed that she also likes to ask how?" Sherlock had asked._

_"Yes." John said, before thinking about it some more._

_"Atlas did the same. They're both bright and clever and curious all at the same time. Rosie is just always curious and until she understand deduction and how to use it, she will always be asking those questions." Sherlock explained._

_"So you don't think something's wrong?" John asked._

_"No John, nothing's wrong." Sherlock had opened his arms and allowed for John to embrace him. "Nothing's wrong at all."_

"Papi, you haven't answered my question." Rosie whined, pulling John back into reality. 

"She was saving your dad from a woman who aimed a shot at him. Your mother, being the woman she was jumped infront of it."

"Why?"

"Because she loved me." John said, his throat constricting, his eyes welling.

"I don't understand." Rosie said quietly.

"I know sweetheart." John sighed stroking her forehead. "I don't know how to help you understand. It's really complicated." Then he paused. There was a way to help, that she would no doubt ask further questions on at a later date. "Your mother died saving your dad..." John paused looking down to his sheets. "Because I loved him and love him..." An intake of breath. "More."  
Pause. "And your mother never missed a thing. And she knew that Sherlock dying would hurt me more. And I suppose and I hate to say it...but she was right."

"Thank you." Rosie squeaked again before finding that her position on top of the covers was too cold and deciding to go underneath them. Cold feet making John giggle, before she laughed too. He looked at the clock. 8:32am. That was okay. They were going to be here a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly is pregnant! 
> 
> Are we excited? 
> 
> Yes, we're excited.
> 
> Am I surprised that I'm rattling out chapters??? 
> 
> Nope. Lockdown kills me.


	19. Finch Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie asking more questions.

EVERYONE had settled off to work within Rosewood Cottage, rooms being prepped for painting with various pieces of furniture out in the front garden and on the driveway ready for a little bit of refurbishing. Atlas was dotting around, dictating in appropriate places with Sherlock not too far away.

"Atlas?" Sherlock said out to the kitchen room. 

"She's up looking at the landing." Sally said from where she was helping Greg carry in some bar stools ready for the breakfast bar to be fitted later that afternoon.

Sherlock disappeared off to find his daughter who was standing looking somewhat blankly at the music landing. "Hey." He said quietly, making his way up to her.

"Oh, hey." Atlas said turning around, her red jacket so similar to Sherlock's swishing.

"Can you picture it?" He asked, Atlas giving an eager nod.

"The only problem is, that it requires so much from 221B to finish it off." She added.

"Wednesday." Sherlock offered before adding. "We're taking the instruments and stuff for up here over on Wednesday." 

"You've done such a good job dad." Atlas said smiling at him as she looked over the banister, down to what was about to be their kitchen area. 

"Couldn't have done it without you, so thank you." Sherlock smiled.

"Really, I should be thanking you dad." Atlas smiled before tentatively adding on. "For actually saying yes when I turned up at 221. Most men would've turned me away."

"I did turn you away." Sherlock sighed.

"But you still came to Books & Beans."

"Yeah, cause Mrs Hudson and John would've likely murdered me." Sherlock smirked Atlas giving him a proper hug.

"I love you." She whispered her head on his shoulder.

"I love you too." Sherlock replied, kissing her temple. "Now, we need to go to Homebase to get some paint." He started to walk away. "Come on!"

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"AND Atlas' mother?" Rosie asked looking up at John who looked down at her. 

"You should ask your papa." John sighed stroking at her fringe. 

"Why?" 

"Because it's a complicated story. And I don't know the whole of it." John smiled, Rosie nodding as she understood. It was true, he didn't know the whole story and he didn't understand the emotion. The story was _Sherlock's_ to tell. And could only be told by him.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"THIS green?" Atlas asked pointing to a dark finch green.

"That's the one." Sherlock says pulling out the slot ready to take over to the Dulux mixer over at the side. The colour was for Sherlock and John's bedroom and was a beautiful colour that wasn't too close to being army coloured. "Do you know what colour you want?" 

Atlas shook her head. No. She didn't. Yellow? Maybe. Light grey? Maybe. Pink? No. Red? No. No. No. No. "No."

"You don't have to choose right now." Sherlock smiled before looking at the wall, pulling out a light sea blue. "Downstairs Bathroom." He said to himself as Atlas agreed. She looked over more colours, before spotting a blue that she liked. A dark blue that moved her, felt clean. Precise. New. She'd never had a blue in a room before. There'd been so many colours that she slept under. Each one ingrained in her mind, tied up in a ball of memories she wouldn't visit.

"Blue." Atlas said quietly to Sherlock who walked over to her after selecting the cream colour for the spare bedroom. Sherlock stood by her and analysed the potential dark blues. She picked up a selection of Azure blues going down the numbers till she settled on a dark royal blue.

"Can - Can I go dark blue?" Atlas asked, looking up at him.

"Of course you can." Sherlock smiled at her before looking at the colour. "Now, I need your help again."

"Yeah?" She asked as he started to walk away from her again and she jogged to catch him up. He was stood infront of the yellow's, analysing critically. 

"We have to get a colour for Rosie's room." Sherlock said before pointing out a sunshine yellow that Atlas smiled at. She pulled it out the slot and pointed at it.

"This is a good one." Atlas smiled before handing it over to him. He looked at it before nodding once, a hand to her shoulder. 

They continued to select a gentle turquoise for the upstairs bathroom before Atlas caught the attention of an employee. He was called Matt, had three dogs that were short and fluffy and black - most likely west highland terriers, a girlfriend who had brought one of the three dogs, they were living together out of town etc, etc. Atlas got bored before he'd even fully approached them.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

EACH paint tin was in the appropriate rooms as everyone got their painting overalls on - well that group literally consisted of Sally, Atlas, Molly and Greg whilst Sherlock said that he would just do it in what he was wearing. He didn't seem to care. 

Atlas, Molly and Greg began to work away in the downstairs bathroom, whilst Sally and Sherlock began work upstairs in Rosie's room. The day was going to be a long one as they all decided to get the first coat done in as many rooms as possible.

"So," Atlas began as she started with a roller on the wall. "I believe a congratulations is in order Molly." 

Molly looked up, giving a small smile. "Uh yes." Molly replied, giving a little nod.

"You and Andrew will be great." Atlas said to her before rollering on some paint, Greg starting to paint along the edges and skirting boards. Light blue paint already placing sploches of paint on her hands, tie on bracelet of a bumblebee - courtesy of Rosie and her fascination with the insect and a little bit on her face.

"Did you help choose the house?" Greg asked, before immediately u-turning and adding. "Of course you did. Sherlock's not that good." 

"No, he chose the house." Atlas informed, surprised eyebrows rising from the other parties in the room. "I just helped him choose the decor and where to put stuff, the colours. That sort of thing." 

"Sherlock's growing up." Greg laughed as he finally had a section of edging completed.

"Taken him over forty five years to do it." Atlas laughed.

"I'm going to head upstairs, make sure they haven't killed each other." Molly said, before disappearing.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SO," Sally said, pouring some yellow into a tray ready for the roller.

"Ugh, why does everyone start a conversation like that?" Sherlock asked as he began to roller on some yellow. Already getting his shirt spattered in paint - Atlas had already told him to take his blazer off otherwise John really would get cross.

"Its called being polite." Sally smiled before looking at Sherlock, who's mouth seemed to be quirking upwards.

"I don't have a great ground in that department." Sherlock sighed, in fact, if anything he was really bad at being polite. He didnt understand what was the proper behaviour and it stressed him out, he knew it did.

"Your doing alright though Sherlock." Sally replied, Sherlock's head snapping up quickly. He looked at her wide eyed before he stepped back a little from the wall. "You are. Your daughters are wonderful, amazing children and you love them. And you and John, well your just so good together. You work in sync." A pause. "You two must be the most in sync yet diverse couple I've ever met." 

"You think?" Sherlock asked, Sally not saying anything. 

"Yeah." Molly said, from where she leaned against the door frame. "You are."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THEY returned home late that night, Rosie filled with questions to ask her tired dad. Atlas took a seat in Sherlock's chair, knees drawn up to her chest with 'The Da Vinci Code' by Dan Brown perched precariously on her knees. John was sat opposite her, holding back a smile as he saw the blue flecks on her hands - the yellow ones on his partners. (Sherlock had been forced into an overall by Molly, quickly into starting so his clothing remained unmarked.) Rosie held up her drawing to Sherlock's face, the dog's head resting sloppily over John's foot. Her dad analysed the picture before handing it back and pointing to some areas for improvement, the young girl did so, face in thought.

"Daddy?" She asked quickly, then paused as Sherlock looked at her expectantly. "Why doesn't Atlas have a mother?"

Sherlock looked to John for help, yet he didn't provide any. Honestly? John was still a little pissed off that Sherlock had been calling Mary mother instead of what John himself wanted her to go by. 

"She died, Rosie." Sherlock said looking down at her. Always so blunt, so harsh but Rosie lapped it up. Atlas shifted in her chair uncomfortably, eyes still trained on the book. 

"Why?" Rosie asked insistently.

"Atlas' mother was ill." Sherlock said as he continued to hide behind his fake facade, every word threatening to crumble from his lips.

"Ill?" Rosie asked. "Why couldn't the doctor's fix her?"

"Some people can't be fixed Ro." Atlas said from her chair. "They try and they try but in the end, they can't be fixed." Measured voice, Sherlock looking up from where he sat crossed legged on the floor.

"Why?" Rosie asked again.

"You know when humpty dumpty falls off the wall?" Atlas asked Rosie, who nodded and looked thoughtful.

"All the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn't put Dumpty together again." Rosie returned, Atlas giving a sad smile. Rosie's face dropped. "They couldn't fix her like my mother." 

"Like your mother." Atlas replied quietly, looking over to John who was stealthily avoiding eye contact.

"How did she die?" Rosie asked again. Smart kid. "You said she was ill, what happened?" 

"Atlas' mother, Mary-Anne -" Sherlock explained.

"Mary! My mother was called Mary too!" Rosie exclaimed, Sherlock giving a fond little smile before looking up to John.

"Yes. She was. Atlas' mother was shot." Sherlock said, holding back on no details. "Like your mother was shot."

"My mother was shot?" Rosie exclaimed. _Shit, shit, shit and double shit._ Sherlock thought John would have at least told her that he mother was shot.

"She was." Sherlock said, Rosie then smiling before nodding. Everything being taken in. 

"Who shot Mary-Anne?" Rosie asked.

There was a pause of baited breath. "Me." Sherlock said and Rosie looked at him stunned. She looked confused before there it was again. The face of an understanding five year old. Raising to her feet, Sherlock waited for her to throw a tantrum, run to her Papi, run out the room. But she didn't. She stayed still, barring the absent minded shuffle from foot to foot. Then she did something no-one anticipated and slung her arms around Sherlock's neck.

"Papa and you always ask people about a motif." She said.

"Motive." Sherlock corrected as she pulled away and he put his large hands either side of her face. Holding it gently.

"What was yours?" Rosie asked quietly, Sherlock waiting to give her an answer. He didn't know how to tell her that it was because Atlas might have died. 

"Me." Another voice said this time from the chair as Rosie looked up to Atlas.

"I don't understand." Rosie said again.

"My mother, was pointing a gun at me. Dad had to point one at her in hopes she would back down." Atlas said, frowning. "She didn't."

"But your alive." Rosie said quietly.

"My mother was a rubbish shot." Atlas joked, earning a tickle of laughter from John. "But do you remember when I was in hospital? I think you came for a little bit of it."

"You had bandages round here." Rosie said as she gestured round her stomach.

"She wasn't that much of a rubbish shot." 

Rosie's eyes went wide as if to say "oh" and then they went even wider - if that was possible - as she realised _"oh"._

"Can I see it?" Rosie asked quietly, Atlas looking to John and Sherlock for confirmation that this was okay. They nodded after sharing their own look and Atlas removed her blue blazer and lifted her t-shirt. Rosie clambered over to Atlas and looked at it, putting a tentative hand out. "Does it hurt?"

"No." Atlas lied. Truth was it did hurt, when she woke in the night from a nightmare. She would lie, hand on her side stomach, her other hand clapped over her mouth to avoid waking people up from her whimpering. Did anyone know it brought pain? No, she hadn't _told_ anyone. But did she need to tell John and Sherlock that it hurt? No. They already knew.

"Okay. That's okay." Rosie said quietly. "Its all okay." 

"Yeah?" Atlas asked. "Your not scared of anything?"

"I'm scared of clowns, spiders and the dark." Rosie said matter-of-factly before she looked at Atlas. "Daddy had to do it. You'd have died. I wouldn't have liked it if you'd died." Rosie looked over to John who was now smiling. Careful steps. "Papa?"

"Yes?" He asked.

"I'm tired." Rosie said, clambering onto his knee.

"Is that you wanting to go to bed?" He asked. "Not choosing to admit it?"

Rosie's eyes were beginning to close and John stood up with her, collected Jeff from Sherlock and took her to bed. Sherlock standing infront of the fire.

"I know it still hurts." Sherlock said looking down at her. She stood to look at him.

"Yeah." Atlas said quietly, leaning against him slightly. "I'm sorry I took the explanation from you." 

"No. It's alright. Rosie was going to see the scar someday. Best to let it all out now." Sherlock smiled, Atlas putting an arm round his waist, his arm round her shoulder.

Atlas retired for bed not long after leaving Sherlock and John to themselves. 

"Sherlock?" John said to the man who was sitting with a cup of tea in his hand. He looked up. "I was wondering why you had Rosie calling Mary mother. I'd always planned on it being Mama or Mum or Mummy." _Passive aggressive._

"John, I didn't me-" Sherlock began but he was cut off by an anger rising John. The younger man had little fight in him to retaliate.

"You didn't mean what? Christ Sherlock! She's going to grow up seeing Mary as a non-important figure in her life! That's not what I wanted!" John shouted, Sherlock reeling as John seethed. They'd gotten better at doing this less and not letting the fights get too extreme and out of hand.

"Sorry if I overstepped." Sherlock said into his tea, disconnected from the outside world. And it was now, John noticed how incredibly worn Sherlock looked. The conversation clearly not having been as easy for him as John had thought. Suddenly Sherlock added rising to his feet and pacing. "I didn't want her to be upset when another kid asks her about why she doesn't have a mummy or a mama or a mum. Because Rosie being Rosie will say that she has a mother. I don't want her thinking that she needs a mum or a mummy or a whatever because she has two dads, one of which is incredibly loving, brave, kind and the loyalist man I ever knew. I didn't call Mary mummy, because Mary is not here. She's not going to be super important in her life because she is not here to share it with her. And I know, its still sort of my fault even if you think it's not, but John. Mary will be nothing more than a photo. And I know it hurts and it's going to hurt. And it hurts me too but Rosie needs to know that it doesn't matter. Because she has two dads here waiting for her when she gets home from school, wakes up or gets hurt." There was a pause. "Mary was my friend too."

John blinked at Sherlock copiously, taking in everything he was saying.

"I love you." John said after some time. He got up from his feet and stood opposite Sherlock. Hands on his arms. "I bloody love you Sherlock Watson-Holmes." A pause. "And by the way, I don't still blame you for her death. I stopped blaming you for it a long time ago." He thought about his next words and Sherlock swore he could see him thinking it through. "Will you take me to bed?"

"By that, what are you implying?" Sherlock asked smirking as he looked at John.

"Take me to bed and I'll show you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I don't read over these and am pretty much using AO3 as a place to secure my work for future reference. So I can get back to it when I break my phone etc.


	20. Who You Really Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Pertwee's real identity is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out longer than expected.

_SUNDAY_ brought a second layer of painting and some deliveries of outdoor seating for the back garden. Morning brought with it five men to fit the kitchen against the wall - Sherlock had rung them, then got Mycroft to pressure them so that the kitchen would be installed immediately - and the estate agent who was popping in to see what Sherlock was choosing to do with the place. He'd gotten on quite well with Miss Mairi Gardner quite early on, liked that she didn't judge him like every other estate agent would - although he suspected Mycroft had a hand in that. The afternoon then proceeded to bring rugs that Sherlock had ordered and the installation of the fireplace below the staircase up to the landing. 

_Monday_ brought an absent Atlas, Greg and Sally as they attended school and work, however Molly stayed. Said she wanted to, or rather she needed to. Sherlock hadn't asked about her being pregnant, but she wanted to tell him just in case he hadn't deduced it yet - particularly as she was planning on stopping by at 221B to tell Mrs Hudson, Rosie and John. The day was worked away at, third coats on the walls in rooms that needed it and the hanging of the curtains and blinds. Downstairs, the bathroom was being meticulously fitted whilst the upstairs one was scheduled to be done the next day. Rosie's room was nearly finished by the end of Monday, with Sherlock just waiting to add in all her personal items from 221B. He'd placed the small bed, a new small bookcase, curtains patterned with coloured feathers and a table with various craft items on it for her creative side. The things she would take from 221B were everything to go inside these things and the pretty oak chest of drawers that her mother picked out for her when she was newborn. He could picture her playing in here and prancing around, stealing glances out the window into the garden below - her bedroom was at the back of the house so to speak. He could see Rosie happy in the room.

Atlas' room too, was nearly finished on Monday, but Sherlock had stopped himself. He wanted to surprise Atlas with her room, so, when she arrived in through the door directly from school - Sammy had given her a lift - he explicitly told her she wasn't to go in. He'd put up curtains and found the double bed that he was planning to give her - it had arrived earlier in the week - the bookcase from the storage unit and arranged her window seat with bright coloured cushions. Assembled a desk with Greg and opened a window to air the room from the smell of fresh paint. He still waited for the mattresses to arrive.

 _Tuesday_ brought a day of mattresses, the cooker, dishwasher, washing machine and tumble dryer. All put in appropriate places. As Sherlock was doing most of the jobs alone today he was thankful when the men arrived at the door with the bits and pieces for the lab. He hadn't stepped foot in there for ages, forgetting it was even there. The walls and floors were tiled but there was so much promise. When the men had finally unloaded the stuff from there van, they left and Sherlock began the long journey of assembling all the flat pack furniture. A writing desk for when they needed to sit and study certain cases and two industrial sized, industrial strength tables on wheels with secondary shelves underneath. It took the whole day. However, half past four brought a morose Atlas who came in and insisted that she wanted to just make something and help. Sammy came in too and helped out - he'd given her a lift again.

"Alright?" Sherlock asked when Atlas had come in. She entered the big laboratory room and Sammy came in. Eyes in wonder. 

"Yeah." Atlas lied, having just experienced another heard day with none other than Mrs Pertwee. Sammy shot her a look as if to say _tell him_ but she ignored it and began to help move the little fridge over into the corner next to the plug.

 _Wednesday_ brought the arrival of sheet music, the piano and both of the violins, along with some of Atlas' personal items from her room. They'd conveniently arranged for the stuff to move over whilst John was working and Rosie was at nursery - Mrs Hudson said she would pop by later that afternoon to have a little look as it was Molly and Andrew's turn to take Rosie. The music landing was starting to take shape, the piano up against the back wall, sofas with a coffee table. A writing desk on the side of the staircase. Drawers in various spots across the landing containing sheet music that Sherlock and Atlas shared. They also took that moment to sort through it and put them in appropriate drawers which were later labelled - Sherlock and Atlas having a whole drawer each for personal compositions. A coloured rug on the floor for purchase against the wood. 

_Thursday_ however, was different. He anticipated much for Thursday but his plans halted when he had a phone call coming through on his phone that afternoon.

"John?" Sherlock asked into the phone, concern lacing his voice as he stood in what was soon to be their bedroom.

"Sherlock, the college has rung." John said, it sounded like he was packing up his things in his office. 

"I can go, John. You can stay at work." Sherlock said collecting his jacket, however, he heard John close the door to his GP room and the opening of the sliding doors.

"We both need to go." John said. He sounded worried. "She's being suspended."

"Wh-" Sherlock choked out before gathering his strength to finish off. "What? What's she done? Did they say?"

"I'll meet you in the car park." John said before hanging up, Sherlock heard the car door shut.

"John? John?" Sherlock said into his phone before putting it in his pocket and darting out the cottage. Atlas had hardly any classes on a Thursday and his stomach filled with a nervousness he'd never felt before. 

One five minute jog later and he turned up at the college, running a haphazard hand through his hair. He spotted John outside the main reception's door, he looked just as surprised.

"Did they say anything John?" Sherlock asked as he got to his partner who was still wearing his black rim plastic square glasses - the arrival of the so called "celebrities" not going unnoticed by some school children changing between classes. Sammy saw them through the heads of students and made a beeline for them.

"John? Sherlock?" He asked approaching them and looking at their faces.

"Sammy?" Sherlock asked quickly.

"Are you here for Atlas?" The young boy asked quickly, John nodding once.

"We're going in just now." Sherlock replied.

"Me and Abayomi are working with our other friends, Xerxes and May to get some proof." Sammy said quickly as the girl who Sherlock assumed to be May walked up to them. Long ginger curls and green eyes. 

"I've got nothing." May said coming up to them.

"Have you checked with Mr Fraggerty?" Sammy asked her, she shook her head. "Right. We'll go once I meet Xerxes." He began to walk away before he looked back to John and Sherlock. "Its not her fault!"

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

PERIOD two, History, and Atlas found herself sat next to her new found friend May. A nice girl with a nice nature. Quiet but thoughtful. She reminded Atlas of a weird combination of Eurus and Rosie. Something about her settled well with the Holmes and she smiled. Infact, over the past two weeks she had been welcomed into a group of friends consisting of Sammy, Abayomi, Xerxes and May. And it was brilliant.

Sammy and Xerxes were a table back and Abayomi was in a different class - having not taken History. In the middle of the lesson, Mr Fraggerty was called over to deal with an unruly lower Sixth and Atlas swiftly pulled out her phone. In the group chat they had set up between the five of them, Aba had sent a message.

_**Abayomi: Can we all meet up for lunch?**_

_**Abayomi: I need to talk to you all** _

_**Atlas: Yeah** _

_**May: Sure** _

_**Sammy: Hippity** _

_**Xerxes: Hoppity** _

_**Atlas: weirdos** _

_**Sammy: No, your the weirdo** _

_**Atlas: 😝** _

Mr Fraggerty came back in, phones swiftly hidden.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"I'M moving." Abayomi said, Atlas' head snapping up faster than she thought it could. "To Dubai." 

"Oh." Atlas said shortly, Sammy signing out to Xerxes what she had said. Atlas watching, she'd picked up quite a lot in the past week and was starting to really enjoy being able to talk to Xerxes properly.

"And I'm not coming back." Abayomi sighed, falling defeated onto an old classroom chair. They were in the room that the quintet and claimed as theirs just last week as for it was at the top of the stairs and forgotten about. Atlas had picked the lock and when Mr Fraggerty had found them their two days earlier had said they could stay. It was an unused social studies room after all - the room being far too small to be a classroom but too big to be a storage room. The quintet had coined it The Box because it was shaped, remarkably like a cardboard box.

"Why are you moving?" Sammy asked for Xerxes who looked at her.

"Money. We're millionaires in Dubai, in fact we probably all are and work. My mum's PR work is pulling her over and my dad has found a position as a crisis doctor in Iraq and will split his time." Aba sighed.

"How long till you go?" Atlas asked, already knowing the answer.

"We fly out a week today. I would have told you guys earlier but it was all going so well and Atlas had joined our group and I didn't want to ruin it." Abayomi insisted.

"We'll miss you." May smiled. "A lot."

"Group hug!" Sammy shouted, the five of them piling together in one big hug.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

PERIOD five on Thurday brought Mrs Pertwee. It was going okay, only Sammy and Abayomi in that class. Well, it was going okay till Mrs Pertwee beckoned Atlas up to the front of the class filled her peers.

"Imagine my fingers are a gun." Mrs Pertwee said, Atlas looking over to Sammy for reassurance. He nodded once. 

"Okay." Atlas said warily, baring in mind she knew who this woman was. She'd been putting up with her as a way of hopefully finally catching her and locking her up for good. But so far her meticulous plan was folding in on itself. Mrs Pertwee was winning and putting Atlas into a cage and keeping her there, trapping her inside. 

Mrs Pertwee took a step closer, her hand on Atlas' shoulder.

"What're you doing Alison?" Atlas whispered, Sammy getting to his feet.

"Sit back down, right now Mr Walters!" Mrs Pertwee shouted, Sammy shaking his head violently.

"No, you can't do that to Atlas." Sammy said. "Infact, you can't do that to anyone, but you really shouldn't do it to Atlas. Do it to me." He walked a few steps forward before seeing Atlas' eyes, wide and speaking volumes. _It's alright._

"I'm going to break you." Mrs Pertwee hissed in her ear. "Right infront of the class." The class gave a laugh as Mrs Pertwee put her fingers directly opposite Atlas' wound. "Chaching, found it."

"Found what?" 

"Your weakness." Mrs Pertwee sneered before Atlas snapped. In a way she didn't think she would, but apparently she was wrong. With one smooth movement Atlas had pinned Mrs Pertwee to the whiteboard at the front of the class, arm twisted behind her back. The older woman giving a wicked laugh, Atlas pulling her back away from the whiteboard. 

"I know what a gun wound feels like." Atlas said into the woman's ear. "And I'm impressed with myself I didn't just shoot you when I had the chance." 

"Atlas Holmes!" Mrs Frobisher shouted from the door, Atlas slamming her into the whiteboard once more. She collected her things leaving the classroom in silence. Sammy was the only one seriously concerned because whatever had just happened was not Atlas being Atlas. That was primal instinct, he'd studied it once when they were at the library. She was saving herself and in that moment he knew that something else was going on as to why Mrs Pertwee had chosen Atlas to pick on. And he had to find out why.

Their last period was a study and he assembled the remaining four of them and they darted off to different teachers. Slipping into idle gossip they tried to see if they could extract information on the woman, if anyone had something to say about her and everything they found out was catalogued in the group chat.

_**Abayomi: Mr Dixon (lower sixth's head of year before you ask) says that Mrs Pertwee is a star teacher, rated as one of the best. When asked on how long she'd been employed as one of the teachers, he said not very long but that she had come up as highly recommended. No information on her personal life could be attained.**_

_**Sammy: I got informed that Mrs Pertwee's daughter previously died along with her husband. Apparently she is still attending therapy over the situation but Mrs Benard doesn't know much more.** _

_**Abayomi: Miss Wylie says that Mrs Pertwee is one of the nicest human beings she's met and although she does not agree with her teaching methods, she says that "whatever she does works because she only ever has straight A students". Apparently, Miss Wylie knows Mrs Pertwee privately. I didn't question how.** _

_**Xerxes: Got some news. Mr Youster says that she attends AA meetings.** _

_**May: Mr Oliver says that she helps to run Chess Club, Girls Cricket, Climbing, Croquet, Tennis and helps out in the special unit during her free classes. However, Mr Oliver says it's weird cause some of them clash and get doesn't always see her at them.** _

_**Sammy: Her dads are here.** _

_**Abayomi: Shit.** _

_**May: yeh, both of them.** _

_**Xerxes: Was that guy who did our SHARE talk one of them?** _

_**Sammy: yeh.** _

_**Abayomi: lowkey hot.** _

_**Atlas: guys. They're my dads. Shut up.** _

_**Sammy: to be fair your dad and pa do be hot tho** _

_**Atlas: Sammy I will not hesitate to redact your visiting, rosie and redbeard privileges** _

_**Sammy: you wouldn't** _

_**Atlas: try me** _

_**May: how are you able to talk to us?** _

_**Atlas: there talking to my dads before me 🤔😟😔🥴🤯** _

_**Atlas: *they're** _

_**Xerxes: it'll be ok** _

_**Atlas: thanks guys. but probs gonna be expelled** _

_**Sammy: I know why you acted the way you did Atlas. We're getting proof. I promise, we're trying** _

_**Atlas: I know.** _

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"MR Holmes, Dr Watson." Mrs Frobisher (the head) said as she gestured to the two seats infront of her. Tentatively they took their seats and looked over to the neat and tidy woman. Sherlock had already been told thrice to behave and he was told there would be no more experiments for a week if he didn't. "I've called you in because of an incident with your daughter Atlas."

"Obviously." Sherlock said under his breath causing John to shoot him a look.

"What happened?" John asked, aware that until Sherlock got over himself he would have to take the reins alone.

"An incident with a teacher. We are not sure what yet, but something has happened and we are waiting for our key eye witnesses."

"This isn't a bloody murder investigation." Sherlock snarled, John reaching out a hand and putting it comfortingly on his leg.

"Mr Holmes! She assaulted a teacher!" Mrs Frobisher exclaimed, Sherlock going wide eyed in sync with John as they reeled.

"What?" John choked out past his confusion and surprise.

"We believe that she pinned Mrs Pertwee up against the wall, arm behind her back." Mrs Frobisher sighed.

Sherlock stopped. Atlas wouldn't do that to an innocent person. 

John stopped. Atlas wouldn't do that to an innocent person.

"Who is Mrs Pertwee?" Sherlock asked, Mrs Frobisher sighing as if it were plainly obvious.

"The English teacher covering for my daughter while she was getting married last week and whilst she is on her honeymoon." Mrs Frobisher said, Sherlock surprised at the thought of a mother _and_ daughter working in the same institution.

"No, that's not what I'm asking." Sherlock snapped and before he could get another word in John intervened.

"What my partner is trying to ask is _who_ is Mrs Pertwee? Where did she come from?"

"I'm from Manchester." The woman in question said as she entered the room and took a seat off to the side near Mrs Frobisher. "My name is Alison Pertwee."

"Fake." Sherlock muttered.

"What?" Mrs Frobisher asked. 

"Fake name." Sherlock said John looking at him pointedly. "Sorry." Sherlock mumbled before he looked over to John again, the reassuring hand still on his knee.

"What were you doing before she pinned you?" John asked, trying to identify a motive for Atlas to turn like that. Sure, a Holmes could appear hot headed but it was because their brains worked so fast that by the time the rest of the room have caught on the culprit is being wrestled into handcuffs.

"Speaking to her at the front of the classroom." Mrs Pertwee sighed, before nodding over to Mrs Frobisher who's glasses were sliding down her nose. Mrs Pertwee was winning. The head teacher looked at her computer sourcing an email that had been sent through by Mr Ingram - the head for Upper Sixth who was interviewing the students in the room at the time, discluding Sammy and Abayomi as for A) they were a friend of Atlas and B) because they had disappeared from their schedule in the library.

"I have an email here from Mr Ingram." Mrs Frobisher said, looking over to the two men. "Your daughter's head of year."

"He's written." Mrs Frobisher began. "Most of the students say that the attack came out of nowhere and that beforehand was gentle roleplay. I have been informed that the class were studying a play by a modern playwright and that the character gets shot in a confrontation with another character. Mrs Pertwee reportedly asked Atlas to get up and stand at the front of the classroom. Mrs Pertwee is then said to have told Atlas to imagine two fingers being held up like a gun and she moved closer, a hand was then placed on her shoulder. At this point, Sammy Walters (reportedly Atlas' closest friend) stood to his feet and repeatedly told Mrs Pertwee to stop what she was doing. Something along the lines of "you can't do that to Atlas." Mrs Pertwee held her two fingers near to Atlas' stomach slash abdomen and that is when the attack is said to have happened. Mrs Pertwee and Atlas reportedly exchanged some hushed whispered - one resource saying that Atlas called her Alison. Mrs Pertwee was then pinned and shoved into the wall a total of two times before she was seen." Mrs Frobisher took a breath before looking back at the men, John reeling.

"Bloody hell." He said, exasperatedly, he looked over to Sherlock who'd closed his eyes. 

"I'm sorry sir, but unless you can give evidence of why Atlas may react in such a way the-"

"She was shot!" Sherlock near shouted, his eyes opening fast. "She was shot." He repeated quieter, John taking up his hand instead. "Her own mother shot her and she was shot where Mrs Pertwee was holding her fingers." 

"Ah." Mrs Frobisher sighed before she thought about her next action. "I still feel we need to suspend her as for she reportedly spoke to Mrs Pertwee afterwards. Heated words."

"I'm an army doctor." John said quickly, sniffing the way he does when he is pissed off. "And a reaction like that," He pointed to the computer screen. "Is normal in situations of trauma."

"I'm still going to issue a suspension. I would like to get Atlas in now." She said getting up and leaving the room, opening the door and looking down the hall. 

When Atlas came in she sat in a chair to the far left of her parents and far away from Mrs Pertwee. She didn't make eye contact and kept her head down.

"Now, Atlas, I've come to a conclusion. I'm going to suspend you until further notice." Mrs Frobisher said.

Atlas' head snapped up with the most fiercest eyes you've ever seen. Hard and cold and so, so confused and broken. _Until further notice._

"I understand that what you did today was because of trauma but we are going to issue you to therapy so you can return to resume your studies next year." Mrs Frobisher said, Atlas feeling the worst she had ever felt and she looked like she was going to cry. Looking over to her parents they saw it too, and then she saw Mrs Pertwee. She'd won, or so she thought. 

Just as John, Sherlock and Atlas were going to leave, the door burst open and in tumbled Sammy, May, Xerxes and Abayomi; Sammy giving the biggest of smiles to the two men.

"We're in the middle of a private conversation." Mrs Frobisher scolded from her office seat.

"About our friend who's been wrongly treated for, well since she got here." Sammy said exasperatedly, signing as he went so Xerxes knew what he was saying.

"By whom?" Mrs Frobisher asked, Sammy looking over to Mrs Pertwee.

"Mrs Pertwee." 

"Do you have evidence?" Mrs Frobisher asked, Sammy shaking his head.

"Not exact-"

"Then I am sorry but I am still going to have to suspend Atlas." Mrs Frobisher sighed before through the gaggle of teenagers Mr Fraggerty appeared. A pendrive in his hand.

"May I?" He asked, Mrs Forbisher nodding as he weaved his way to her computer. The monitor buzzed when he plugged the pen drive in and up came some video documents. Mr Fraggerty turned the monitor towards her parents and Atlas' friends, Mrs Frobisher coming round on her office chair for a better look. Before them footage played of Atlas repeatedly coming into contact with Mrs Pertwee. Everything from the first day she was taken into her office to the incident of the day. The footage slowed and the room was still.

Atlas looked to the floor.

"Who is she, Atlas?" Sherlock asked staying at where he was and looking at a stunned Mrs Pertwee.

"She's an escaped murderer." Atlas smiled, knowing she'd won after all. "I was running a case with Lestrade, Sammy was with me."

"The one with the little girl and dad found dead from poison. The son punched you in the face and the mother was arres-" Sammy said and he turned his head to look at Mrs Pertwee who suddenly got to her feet and tried to exit only to be caught by Sherlock, pinned against the wall and handcuffed.

John texted a quick request to Lestrade before Abayomi, Xerxes and May took their leave, Sammy staying. Standing, John met Atlas who had stood and hugged her. 

"Your so stupid sometimes, love." John whispered to her, Atlas nuzzling her nose into the shoulder of his blue work blazer. She took a deep breath, John resting his cheek against her temple before pulling away and Atlas exchanged a hug with Sammy. 

"Thank you, Mr?"

"Fraggerty. History. James Fraggerty." The ginger man with a beard said. "Atlas is one of the best students I have."

John looked to Atlas and exchanged a smile. 

Sherlock and John signed Atlas out and took her home after saying their thank you's to her friends and thank you's to Mr Fraggerty. Out in the car park Atlas hopped into the backseat before both men turned around in their seats to look at her.

"Why didn't you mention it?" John asked, reaching out a hand to gently rub at Atlas' knee. "We'd have helped." Atlas moved to the middle seat and looked at them.

"I couldn't really be sure she wasn't going to run or somehow avoid getting caught. She escaped before, how could I be sure she wouldn't again?" Atlas said looking at John and then Sherlock.

"Next time, you tell us." Sherlock warned, eyebrows creased. "No matter what it is. You already are sitting with a target on your back being my kid. So you tell us, okay?" Sherlock said, Atlas nodding before slipping back in her chair and looking out the window.

_Shit can turn out ok sometimes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's bad.


	21. Hounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reporter gets too close...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. No I don't review these and edit them because I can never be bothered.

ATLAS and Sherlock returned from the new house on Saturday early to sort out a few things back at 221B. Tommorow, they were showing John and Rosie the new house, but right now Atlas needed a nap. John had left a sticky note just in case on the fridge saying he'd gone to buy milk and take Rosie to the park. Immediately in the door and Atlas was on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and asleep. Out of it. Sherlock smiled before going over to his seat and selecting a book to read, settling on one about Afghanistan he'd seen both John and Atlas read - it was also one of the few books that hadn't yet been moved over to Rosewood Cottage.

Ten minutes later and John and Rosie hustled in the door, surprised to see the other half of their family home already. Rosie squealed and ran over to Sherlock who picked her up and kissed her cheek whilst John put the shopping on the table. Upon entering the living room he spotted Atlas asleep on the sofa and looked over to Sherlock.

"Is she alright?" John asked, Sherlock nodding.

"Yeah, we finished up early and she was tired." Sherlock said as Rosie babbled on about all the wonderful things she had done at the park that afternoon. Listening intently, John began making themselves some cups of tea. 

"Did it go well? Whatever you were doing?" John asked, plonking into the chair opposite Sherlock. He looked over to where Atlas slept and gave a warm smile. 

"Very. Infact, don't plan anything for tommorow afternoon." Sherlock said before adding. "And no, before you ask, we're not telling you two anything." He smiled looking down at Rosie. "Tommorow morning your taking Rosie to the butterfly zoo." He produced two tickets from his pocket and handed it over to John who scowled. 

"Sherlock, I -" John said quickly.

"Me and Atlas have a few things to finalise before you get to see it." Sherlock insisted before John gave a small smile.

"Alright." John said before getting to his feet and kissing Sherlock lightly. "Love you." Sherlock gave a goofy smile up at him.

"Love you more." Sherlock laughed, John looking down at Rosie. 

Movement off to the side alerted them to Atlas waking up, however, she was only draping a haphazard arm over her forehead. 

"Right, my dear Watson-" Sherlock began.

"Watson-Holmes." Rosie corrected causing both men to give a little laugh. 

"I believe Mrs Hudson requested your assistance with some baking. Shall we go and see her?" Sherlock asked, Rosie nodding enthusiastically as she got off of his lap.

"Nana Hudson! Nana Hudson!" She screeched as she ran towards the door before Mrs Hudson shouted back.

"Take care on the stairs dear!" 

"I'll go down." Sherlock said leaving shortly after, John remaining stood where he was when something caught his attention. Atlas, moving in an agitated manner, as if she were suffocating under her blue blanket. Slowly, John moved over to her and touched her shoulder. 

"Atlas." He said gently. "Atlas, it's just a dream." Firmly, he rubbed his thumb over her shoulder. "Wake up, it's just a dream, love." He sat down on the sofa near her and continued to soothe her until she began to mumble something. 

It was along the lines of: _Dad, please...please wake up. Dad please. Why did you do this? Dad, I can't remember the number. Is it three sevens or three nines? Dad, please wake up. Dad._

"Atlas, wake up." John said holding her shoulders and shaking lightly. "Your dreaming, sweetheart. It's only a dream." And that's when she shot up, unbelievably fast and crashed into John who looked taken aback. 

"Jesus." Atlas said before she slumped back against the edge of the sofa. 

"Yeah." John said putting a hand to her shoulder comfortingly. She looked like she was going to cry when Sherlock came in, assessing the situation.

"What was it about?" Sherlock asked coming into the room and clearing a spot on the coffee table to sit.

"March 16th, 2009." Atlas replied looking off to the side, Sherlock looking at her. 

"You remember?" He asked, Atlas only giving a little nod. Her eyes filled with unshed tears and she shuffled to lean against John. 

"March 16th, 2009?" John asked Atlas confused.

"I..." Pause before she squeaked out. "Dad, you should really tell papa." Atlas put an arm over John's stomach and John held her with both his arms. Her cheek over his chest, eyes closed.

"It's not important." Sherlock said, brushing it off. 

"Dad, you tried to fucking die!" She screamed at him, hot tears, pulling away from John. 

"Language." John warned, a hand still resting on her shoulder. His head caught up in shock moments later when what Atlas had said finally came to rest. "Wait, wh-what?" 

"It's not important because it's in the past!" Sherlock shouted back at her. John was obviously going to have to be the peace keeper in the shouting match that was about to ensue.

"It's not though is it?!" She screamed at him. "Dad, it's important because I was six and it was my fault you did it!" She screamed at him through sobs, John looking at Sherlock pointedly.

"We're not talking about it!" Sherlock shouted, pouting like a child.

"Your getting worse!" Atlas screamed at him. "After you killed her! Sometimes I wish you would have let her get a good shot! Then you wouldn't be so insufferable!" 

"Sometimes I wish I had." Sherlock shouted back before reeling at what he'd just said. Atlas' eyes going wide at what he'd just said before she just looked at him, cold.

"I hate you." She whispered. 

"What?" Sherlock swallowed.

"I hate you! I hate you!" She shouted through sobs.

"Atlas." John tried to soothe. "No you don't."

"I do. I hate him. I hate him." Atlas sobbed quieter before Sherlock reached out a tender hand to her shoulder. Her head snapped up to look at him. "I hate you."

"No you don't." Sherlock said quietly.

"Yes I do." Atlas said hitting him with balled fists.

"No you don't." Sherlock replied.

"I do, I hate you." Balled up fists made contact with his chest and he just took it. He was deserving of it. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"No you don't."

"I do, I hate you." She cried her thumps on his chest subsiding as she gave a quiet sob.

"No you don't." Sherlock said before putting his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into him. An awkward hug, but clearly a needed one by the way Atlas responded with a whimper. 

"I'm sorry I did that to you." He said into her hair, before looking at John. "I'm sorry that I left the needle out. I'm sorry I did that. I'm sorry I didn't think about you."

She whispered before going quiet for a little while. After building up some courage and choosing her words she spoke. "You were trying to forget about mother." Atlas said into his chest. "I just wish you'd been in a clearer mind."

"Me too. You always knew I did it on purpose, haven't you?" Sherlock said, Atlas nodding.

"When I was six, dad overdosed on purpose, I found him, called our neighbour and they administered CPR." Atlas whispered, directed at John.

"The hell haven't you told me about this before Sherlock?" 

"Because I'm ashamed I did it." Sherlock said, still holding a crying Atlas but he opened his arm and welcomed John into the hug. He kissed him chastely before smiling sadly at him.

"I didn't know your mind was capable of going so low." John uttered quietly brushing a curl off his forehead, Sherlock sighed and looked at him. If John had said that to any _ordinary_ human being it would have sounded offensive, but to Sherlock it was a recognition. An understanding that John now saw that Sherlock's mind _was_ capable of hitting rock bottom. It took him to the months after Mary died when Sherlock was a mess. When he needed help and John didn't run to him like a best friend would. He waited. And he didn't help straight away. He knew Sherlock was there again and now he regretted it.

"I don't hate you." Atlas whispered, Sherlock kissing her hair in response.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to her. "If you...If you'd have died...If you die, I'm probably going to feel like shit, return to drugs and die before I'm fifty." 

"Was that Sherlock Watson-Holmes attempting to make a joke?" Atlas asked, hugging him tightly.

"No." Sherlock said. "I was stating a fact."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"WHAT are you doing up?" Sherlock asked Atlas during the early hours of Sunday morning. She was sat on the sofa with "The Da Vinci" code, reading away when he came in.

"What are _you_ doing up?" Atlas asked, looking over to him from the top of her book. She'd switched the floor light on and it was casting a warm glow over the living room.

"I've got this weird feeling that's making me want to jump up and down." Sherlock said flopping onto the sofa.

"That's called excitement dad." Atlas sighed before looking at him. "I am too and I really want to go make sure it's all okay." 

"Yeah me too." Sherlock sighed before he looked at her. "Go get changed and meet me back here in ten minutes." 

"Okay." Atlas said before she creeped into her marginally bare room and slipped into some clothes and collected her red long coat on her way to the living room. 

"I have something to show you and then we'll go over to the new house and finish it off a little more." Sherlock said before she followed him out the front door - Sherlock dropping John a text incase he woke up worried. Atlas followed Sherlock along some pavement and along several streets until they approached a grave yard. Atlas followed him inside, their path lit by yellow lamp posts as they approached a grave reading Sherlock Holmes. Atlas shuddered. She could remember the day the newspaper read it.

"I read it in the newspaper." Atlas sighed looking up at him before realising, this was not their reason for coming. "Where are we actually going?" She asked before Sherlock took her hand and led her over to another grave that read _Elizabeth Buchanan_ with a second name underneath, _Robert Buchanan._

"Who are they?" Atlas asked, noting that Elizabeth Buchanan was 24 when she died and Robert 19. 

"Your aunt and uncle on your mothers side." Sherlock said before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of ashes. Atlas inaudibly gasped.

"Is that her?" She asked quietly, her dad giving a little nod and Atlas looking at him. 

"Yes." He choked out before he knelt down on the grass, Atlas remaining standing. "You know, she might have been insane but she knew what she wanted. She wanted to lie with Robert and Elizabeth."

"Do I get my name from her?" Atlas asked from above, Sherlock giving a curt nod in reply.

"You'd have have had Robert somewhere if you'd have been a boy." Sherlock said before he opened the back a little. Atlas knelt next to him, a peculiar sadness washing over her.

"Robert and Elizabeth died in an airline crash when your mother was 22." Sherlock said, answering Atlas' silent question. 

"Oh." Atlas said before Sherlock opened the ziplock bag. How very...Holmes of him. Unlike most people they had been keeping her in a ziplock back until they could spread her ashes or rather until they found out where they had to go.

Sherlock held the bag with a shaking hand and Atlas steadied it with her own over his.

"Let's do this dad." Atlas said before together they carefully spread the contents of the bag onto the wet grass, the ashes seeping away into the soil. Atlas was surprised when she gave an uncontrollable sad sigh and that was when Sherlock began to cry. His chest heaved and his eyes stung as he cried quietly, Atlas hugging him close. One arm round his front and an arm round his back. "It hurts rather a lot more than I thought it would." Atlas admitted to her dad, tears fighting their way out. 

"Yeah." He said, holding her to him on the wet grass.

"I wish I could go back in time to meet her." Atlas smiled.

"I wish you could too. She was pretty amazing." Sherlock said. "I'm such a softie."

"You are but I still love you dad." Atlas laughed before standing and offering him a hand. She took one haul and he came to his feet before she hugged him again. "And I'm really sorry I don't remember her like you do and I'm sorry if that makes you feel alone."

"It doesn't matter." Sherlock said pointedly, Atlas looking at him with a tilted head.

"March 16th 2009." Atlas said. "I think it matters."

Sherlock gave a small smile. "I'm amazed you remembered that. I thought you'd have deleted it." Atlas giving a once nod. 

"Of course I bloody do, I don't think I deleted the cache." Atlas sighed before he put his hands either side of her face and wiped away invisible tears with his thumbs. It was his turn to give a sad sigh.

"I love you too." He whispered into her hair after pulling her in for a third hug. "Do you want to say anything?" Atlas pulled away looking confused. "Before she's gone." He added looking to where the new speckles of rain were starting to wash the ashes away.

"Yeah...Okay." Atlas said looking at him sadly before beginning. "I wish I knew you the way dad did." She scuffed her foot. "I wish I knew what you were like because all the nice things you did when I was little...I can't remember them. Dad tells me you brought home flowers, but I can only remember you throwing the vase against the wall, painting it with water. I can remember dad, picking me up and hugging me...loving me. And I do, sometimes wonder what it might have been like. To have you as a mother. Because in reality I didn't have the _real_ you. And I wish I did." Atlas said, somehow welling up with unshed tears. "Dad, you should say something."

"I love you. And I always will. The day I sent you for some help...oh god I'm sorry. I had to. For our daughter. I had to send you away so that she would stay alive. I had to shoot you so that we both would stay alive. I've found someone, if you wanted to know. Doctor John Hamish Watson, been my best friend for years. I love him. The type of love I loved you with, is not the same as the type of love I love him with. It's more. And he's got a daughter too, Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson. She's wonderful. I'm going to be a Watson-Holmes soon. I'm sorry." Sherlock sighed before Atlas put an arm around his waist and he put one round her shoulder and they stood in silence a minute.

"My nose is cold." Atlas said after some time.

"Yeah? My ears are cold." Sherlock laughed before they began to exit the graveyard. "Shall we head over to Rosewood?"

"Yeah." Atlas said as they began the rather long walk to the cottage. "You know, you didn't have to take me with you."

"Of course you had to come." Sherlock said pulling her into his side affectionately. Affectionate. A word Atlas never thought she would use to describe Sherlock but now she was using it. Sherlock Watson-Holmes had gotten soft in his engagement and with his children and dog _and_ a new house.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

WHEN they arrived Atlas looked around, the house was as they had left it but it wasn't warm yet. It wasn't a home, that would take people.

"Are you shopping for stuff sometime soon?" Atlas asked. "Like later on this morning whilst their at the zoo?" 

"What shopping?" Sherlock asked bluntly, hanging up his coat on the coat rack. 

"Oh my, you are stupid sometimes dad." Atlas sighed sitting on a bar stool near the kitchen. "We need toilet roll, kitchen roll, soap and things like that. We don't keep them in stock back at 221B but we have the space here."

"What do you propose?" Sherlock asked, eyeing her up.

"Costco...when it opens." Atlas said to him, Sherlock furrowing his brows. He had a serious distaste for _Costco_ hence the reason they bought supplies near on weekly. Then again, he supposed it was about time that he went for it so he nodded. Atlas giving a small smile.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"REMIND me why you made me steal John's Costco card?" Sherlock said as he pushed a trolley through the large shop. "Remind me why John even has a Costco card? And finally, pray tell, remind me how you knew he had a Costco card?" 

"I made you steal his Costco card because I really, really, really hope that we can persuade them to stay at the new house tonight." Atlas smiled as she picked up one of the Costco lasagne's that would make a good throw in the oven tea. She then picked up some garlic bread to her with it, Sherlock watching her. "John has a Costco card because once upon a time he was good at forward planning."

"He still is." Sherlock smiled. "He just has two children, a dog and I admit, I'm a bid of a child too. Forward planning is not easy with all that to think about." Atlas looked at him.

"Finally, I know he has one because he asked me to get his credit card out the other day when we went to the shops because his hands were full, so detective dad, I saw he had a Costco card." Atlas laughed as they made their way over to the toiletries and other items. She put a big pack of toilet roll in, along with a big pack of kitchen roll and hand soap. At the same time Sherlock got excited by chemical gloves and picked up five boxes, of which Atlas picked took three boxes back and changed one for a size 8 glove instead of Sherlock's size 10. Then, they moved to the other side of the shop where they sell their mechanical stuff aswell. Sherlock picked up an abundance of masks and tornado work gloves to add to their lab. They picked up a few more items before they finished, paid and went out to the land rover. Atlas helped load it up before she hopped in and waited for her dad to get back. 

"We're lucky they didn't ask to look at the ID." Sherlock asked, as he put his wallet into one of the compartments. He switched on the car and pulled out the car parking space, beginning down the road. "We'll nip into the Tesco just here too." He pulled in not even a minute later and pulled into a spot. "We need some more shopping anyway. Some condiments after _your_ last experiment, which John didn't believe that I didn't help you with. Which-"

"Yes, I know. You didn't." Atlas winked as they made their way inside the shop, picking up a basket and heading for the fruit and vegetables aisle. 

"Rosie likes carrots." Sherlock said picking them up.

"Dad, Rosie literally eats everything." Atlas smiled as she picked up some red peppers which she knew were among John's favourite. Sherlock picked up loads more vegetables before they crossed over into the next aisle and collected more staple foods, five packets of biscuits - being Sherlock's favourite food and several packet of skips as they were fast becoming Rosie's favourite type of crisps. 

"Mr Holmes! Mr Holmes!" A man was shouting at the other side of the aisle, running towards them. Atlas looked over to Sherlock wide eyed as they realised that he was a reporter.

"Dad." Atlas said quietly, Sherlock only taking her hand in his own.

"I know, love." 

"Mr Holmes!" The man yelled again, his face red with sweat and exhaustion. "Mr Holmes! It's been reported that this is your daughter. What do you say to these claims?" 

"We're shopping." Sherlock smiled before he walked past the man with Atlas, heading for an early arrival at the checkout. 

"Mr Holmes! Miss Holmes! What do you say to these claims?" The man said running over to them again and standing in their way.

"Excuse me." Atlas said moving past him to get some pasta, realising that they still needed some.

"Miss Holmes? What is your name? I have a lot of readers who would like to know you story and name." The man said, before Sherlock stepped between.

"We would like it if you would leave us alone." Sherlock said putting his hand out, the man's attention being caught by a security guard who knew Sherlock.

"We would like to know if she really is your daughter? She's a secret, is she out of wedlock?" The man pressured again, Sherlock taking Atlas' hand. 

"Sir please step away." The security guard said coming up to them and putting his hand on the chest of the reporter. "Please step back."

Although the request was not directed at them, Sherlock and Atlas moved backwards to allow for more space.

In the end the man was escorted out by the security guard and Atlas and Sherlock left contemplating and deducing the whole situation. 

And it was in this moment that Atlas realised that being a Holmes was going to get more interesting once Sherlock and John set up that instagram account for the family. The plan was to make it official that Rosie and Atlas were their children but that meant that the people were likely going to follow them. Publicity and such. 

But then, Atlas supposed, she was getting a family out of it all.


	22. Watson-Holmes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't edit these.

"SHERLOCK? What are you doing?" John asked as he stood outside 221B with Sherlock's scarf being tied around his eyes. "This scarf needs washing, it smells like dried blood." Sherlock gave a laugh before beckoning his hand for Lestrade to pull the land rover up to outside the flat. Sherlock then led John over to the door to the land rover.

"Sherlock?" John said as he put his hands out to the front of him and Sherlock helped him into the car. "I swear to god. This probably looks like you've abducted me." 

The key behind having Lestrade there was purely so that if they had any phone calls of a suspicious incident of two men in a black landrover, one of the men with a scarf round his eyes, it wouldn't be an emergency. Greg waved his goodbye to Sherlock as he jumped into the drivers seat.

"I swear to god, Sherlock. If you've gotten another one of your brother's minion's to drive us to our new house, so help me go-" John said before he felt a calming hand to his thigh. _Sherlock's_ hand on his thigh. Gently, John put a hand over Sherlock's hand and squeezed it.

"I'm here. It's just us." Sherlock said and John could hear the smile that he wished he could see. "And as another surprise, this is also our car." Sherlock pulled out and started making his way along the road.

"It sounds old." John said before he put out his left hand, feeling the interior of the car. "Is it..." Pause. "No, it can't be. No way."

"Tell me what you've deduced." Sherlock said as he stopped at some traffic lights.

"We can't afford it..." John remarked.

"I've got some money put to the side. You know, for this." Sherlock said. "For family, for a house, to get a car."

"Is it a land rover?" John asked, before Sherlock gave a smile and pulled up outside the house. "That was quite quick."

"Yes. It's not that far." Sherlock smiled before John turned his face to him. Coming round, Sherlock opened the door and took John to stand infront of the house. Atlas had decided to go with Rosie and Rebeard to the park and meet up with Mycroft. They would see the house later. Carefully, Sherlock un-tied the scarf carefully and let it drop from John's eyes and putting back around his neck. John looked up at the house and blinked. 

"Bloody hell." John said, before looking back at the car that they had come in and seeing that it was infact a black four door land rover. John's jaw dropped before he looked at his partner. "Bloody hell." Sherlock didn't speak as the nerves rose within him and he didn't know if he'd done something wrong or everything right and it scared him. He let out a long breath and crossed his arms waiting for John to say something. Instead, he was greeted with a hug he didn't anticipate and a kiss on the cheek. When John pulled away, he saw his husband-to-be standing shocked.

"Sherlock, it's definitely ours? No strings attached? No nothing?" John asked, thinking of times earlier in their lives.

"Apart from a mortgage that we will have to pay off monthly." Sherlock said looking at John before they both huffed out a laugh. "And I bought it. If you need proof of the money and the saving accounts and stuff I can ask Mycroft-"

"Sherlock-" John started, only to be interrupted by Sherlock again.

"He has proof. It's not bought with dodgy money or anything and I put the remainder into other funds for retirement for us both. It's all secure, I worked for some of the money so-"

"Sherlock, it's alright." John said holding the other man's arms to steady him. "It's beautiful and I am so, unbelievably proud of you." 

"Yeah, 'cause you know. If your unsure or anything I can as-"

"Sherlock. I trust you." John said putting his hands either side of Sherlock's face before pulling him in for a kiss. "I trust you."

"I love you." Sherlock replied before he straightened up and opened the gate for John to step through. The older man looked up at the old building which was - John realised - a new build aswell. 

"It's beautiful." John said as they walked up the front path and he looked over to the drive where he saw their old blue Skoda Fabia parked on the brick. Sherlock nodded as he opened the door, which was a dark wood finish, and entered the lobby. It was a large space that Sherlock had decided to put a coat rack and shoe rack within - the coat rack on the wall of the stairs. A long plank of wood with various hooks along it with a plank of wood lower down the wall. John saw some of Rosie's jackets and fleece's already hung up and saw his own, Sherlock and Atlas' jackets too. He smiled to himself as he saw the dog lead draped over one of the hooks aswell. 

"Have a look in there." Sherlock said, pointing to the door for the downstairs bathroom as he took off his coat and hung it up - John shouldering his off into Sherlock's hands as he hung up the jacket. 

"Oh, this is a nice bathroom." John said as he looked inside of it and ran his hands over the light blue walls. He came out and looked at Sherlock.

"Are we going up the stairs or?" John asked Sherlock who, for a change, understood what he was being asked. 

"This way first." Sherlock said, taking John's hand and leading him into the big room. 

"Woah." John said as they took the first few steps in. He saw their chairs infront of the fire on his left, the kitchen on his right and the secondary sitting area with a TV. Smiling, he looked up to see the music landing and walkway across to the bedrooms - or what he thought were the bedrooms. He saw the big table with space for six chairs, the breakfast bar with four chairs. On the wall nearest the fire their was a drawing board and toys and pictures that Rosie had drawn for Sherlock and John over the years. There were bookcases by the fire and the sofa from 221B with the chairs on a pretty black and white rug. Cushions of all sorts of colours on the chairs and sofas in both sitting areas. Yellow curtains. Teal coloured dishwasher. Multi coloured tiles behind the cabinets. "It's amazing." He looked up and saw the roof lights above the landing and he could just see a bit of the piano which had mysteriously disappeared on Wednesday.

"Come up here." Sherlock said going up the stairs at the side of the room, John following. The soldier softened as he looked over the banister to the kitchen area. 

"That'll be fun for dusting." John laughed, noting the tops of the cabinets and fridge. When he got to the top of the stairs his eyes went wide and he felt himself well-up. He could see the piano, the violin cases, cabinets of sheet music and a sofa. He saw the coloured rug and fairy lights on the wall, a coffee table with books on it. 

"This is your desk." Sherlock said gesturing to the wooden desk with a new laptop on it, side light amongst other things.

"Did you?" John said walking over. "You can't...Sherlock! I could've bought myself all of this. I have money." 

"John, sorry. I didn't mean to make it out that you have no money. I'm sorry." Sherlock said walking over to him with his hands out, palms up. "Shit. I've only gone and fucked it up."

"No. No, you haven't love." John said walking to him and holding his arms. "We'll figure something out."

"I'll transfer you money from my account John." Sherlock smiled.

"Sherlock, I'm not asking you to do that." John sighed looking at him, feeling overwhelmed.

"It's our money." Sherlock said, resting his forehead against John's. "That's what my grandparents said. Share with the one you love the most." Pause. "That's you." John smiled at that before looking over to where the piano was sitting.

"We had a tuner in aswell." Sherlock smiled. "I didn't tell At. Want to see how long it will take before she realises."

"Not long if her musical ear is anything to go by." John smiled, looking up at Sherlock. "The ear she got from you."

Sherlock smiled before he took John's hand and led him along the landing walkway. John looked over to where he could see the stairs came up from the lobby and he spotted two chairs with a little nightstand separating them. One was yellow, one blue with a picture above them. They walked along the long hallway and Sherlock showed John into the spare bedroom with an en suite. Then Sherlock took him into Rosie's room all bright yellow and colourful. Sherlock explained how the bed was once his and pretty much explained everything else. 

"Oh, she'll love it." John said as he ran a hand over the duvet on the bed. He looked at the blanket that Rosie had had since she was born, draped over the bed. "Wow." He said looking out the window, running his hands over the feather curtains. "It's beautiful."

There was a brief pause of quiet. "Atlas?" John asked before Sherlock left and led him through to the dark blue room of Atlas'. She had a double bed, bookcase, nightstand with lamp, window seat and little desk with a laptop on it.

"She needed a laptop too." Sherlock said as John looked over to it. He smiled at the yellow bedding and curtains, bright colours laced throughout. Yellow cushions and striped cushions on the window seat. 

"If ever there was a room that fitted our girl, this is it." John smiled looking up at Sherlock, wrapping an arm round his waist and kissing his cheek.

"She hasn't seen it yet." Sherlock said looking down at John who rubbed his back comfortingly.

"She'll love it." John smiled before Sherlock took his hand again and led him into the upstairs bathroom. John again, loved it and smiled. "Another good job." John smiled.

John was then led into their bedroom and he just stood looking at the finch green painted walls and the beautiful ivory pattern on the bed. He ran his hand over the cushions on and the seat at the end of the bed. Looking over at the nightstands he smiled seeing Sherlock's books piled up. 

And then he weeped. Hot tears streaming down his face as he started to laugh taking a seat on the end of bed seat. 

"Have I...I don't understand...John...please, I don't understand." Sherlock said sitting on the end of the bed seat. Running his hands over his face and breathing into them.

"Christ Sherlock. I love you. I love you." John said before Sherlock snapped his head up to him and they hugged each other tightly. 

"I didn't fuck up then?" Sherlock double checked, John only shaking his head.

"No, this is what I always wanted." John said, his cheek resting against Sherlock's bony shoulder.

"It's what I always wanted." Sherlock repeated before he smiled at John. "Come." He said standing up. "We still have the lab and garden to visit." Sherlock took him down the stairs to the door to the lab and led him inside the big room. Sherlock smiled wide as he led him inside and he saw the big industrial tables. The walls were prepared with cork boards - pin and string ready for solving crimes. There were cabinets with locks for chemicals and various different bookcases and chests for other items. There were desks for writing stuff down amongst other things. John also spotted a dog bed and a seating area with science books for Rosie to sit with John whilst Sherlock and Atlas worked away. There was a fridge, microwave, oven, kettle and sink to best aid their experiments and John was pleased to see that Sherlock had already kitted the cabinets out with disinfectant and cleaning products. That was probably the biggest surprise of all.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE final surprise was one that neither of them knew was coming. As they re-entered the living room they noticed a big picture shaped package wrapped in brown paper and string. Walking over, Sherlock unwrapped the package carefully as John came over and looked over his shoulder as Sherlock looked at a tag.

"Here is a present for you. I hope you enjoy. It took me some time to paint and get it right, but I really hope you like this painting. Eurus kiss kiss." Sherlock read aloud before they looked at the painting.

Depicted were themselves chatting over a picnic table to Mycroft and Sherlock's parents. Rosie was sat on Timothy's lap and you could just make out the green of Jeff against Rosie's chest. Atlas was sat on the floor next to the dog and she appeared to be chatting to Eurus.

And finally, there were a pair of feet. Boots, like the ones that John had said Harry used to wear.

Sherlock looked down to the tag again and flipped it over.

"PS I remember John telling me one time about his sister and how he wished she could join you all for meals. So I drew her feet in the picture, her body off to the side." Sherlock said aloud. "I hope one day she'll join us."

Sherlock looked up to John, who's eyes had gone glossy. The younger man stood and wrapped an arm around John and pulled him into a hug.

"I miss her." John said into Sherlock's shoulder.

"I know. But she's getting better. She's in rehab." Sherlock comforted rubbing his back. "I know you miss her."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ROSIE loved the house and so did Redbeard. They especially liked the back garden and were already excited to have pirate princess adventures together up low branch trees, monkey bars and swings. 

"Oh, Atlas." John said, looking at her from where he was leaning on the breakfast bar. She was perched on the kitchen counter and Sherlock as standing next to Rosie who was sitting on the breakfast bar. "I left something in a box on your bed for you." 

"Oh, okay." Atlas said hopping off her counter and going upstairs. When she got in her new room she saw an A4 cardboard box on her bed. Walking over, she picked up the box and opened it up. Her eyes stung and went blurry as she saw what it was.

_Adoption papers._

_With her name on them._

_AND John's._

_He wants her._

Clapping a hand over her mouth she legged it down the stairs and ran as fast as she could, unsure of her footing from poor visibility. And then she saw him. The man who wanted to be her papa and she ran to him, engulfing him in a sobbing hug.

"Are you sure?" She asked pulling away and looking up at him. "I'm hard to like, I'm a teenager seven years early, I'm turbulent, I'm a handful, people never normally want me, they didn't before, I'm fake and I don't speak sometimes and I have seizures and I'm a freak and you ca-"

"Stop." John said putting his hands either side of her face and kissing her forehead. "I should've asked you a lot sooner."  
She cried with a smile and sniffed into his shoulder. "I love you so much, Ida Atlas Elizabeth Watson-Holmes." 

"I love you more papa." Atlas said before Sherlock and Rosie joined the hug, Sherlock sniffing loudly that it nearly made Atlas jump out of her skin. 

"I do want you." John whispered into her hair before he looked up at Sherlock. "Don't ever think I don't, okay?" 

"Yeah." Atlas said. "I was just worked up with Mrs Pertwee and all that sort of stuff." 

"We know." Sherlock said before transferring Rosie over to John. "How's about we stay here tonight? Me and Atlas picked up stuff, so the house is stocked. And we have towels in. We can finish moving tommorow morning." Sherlock smiled, looking over to John.

"Yes!" Rosie exclaimed. "I have Jeff. Can we stay Papa? Pleeeaaassseeee." 

"Your dad says yes." John smiled putting a hand on Atlas' hair. "I'm proud of you too." He looked at her and she smiled before kissing his cheek and hugging his torso. 

"Grandma and Grandad are popping by on Friday after school with Mycroft and Eurus. They want to see the final thing. I thought it would give us time to move and settle in a bit." Sherlock smiled before he lifted Rosie onto the breakfast bar, Jeff clutched to her chest. Her cast was yet to come off, the break taking longer to heal than anticipated. However, Rosie was really hoping that it would come off on Wednesday when she had the appointment. She'd gone off pink in recent weeks and was ready to wear her jackets and jumpers more comfortably. 

"We have stuff to make pizza's in. You know, our own homemade ones Papa." Atlas said looking over to John who smiled as she got the mix out of the cupboard.

"You guys fully stocked the house too didn't you?" John asked, Sherlock giving a little nod as.

"Even dog food, Rebeard." Atlas said to the dog who looked up at her and she gave a little smile. "Your _favourite_ dog food. _And_..." Atlas said moving over to the dog to sit next to him. "As you've discovered, a new bed. Some new toys and a new lead after you tore the last one." Sitting crossed legged she stroked her hand down the dogs back and he lay there quietly. "Your such a good dog Red." She hugged his neck and rested her chin on his head. 

"You'll end up with a hairy pizza." Sherlock said as he went over to the corner to the wine rack and picked out a red. "Wine?" He asked John, who was rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. 

"Yeah, why not." John smiled as Sherlock got out some of the new wine glasses he had bought and then the denby plates he bought. "Atlas, you gonna help me with the dough?" John asked, Atlas nodded, got up and put on an apron before helping John knead the dough. He threw some flour on the kitchen bench, Atlas rubbing it in before managing to get it in her hair and on her face. Sherlock then came over to do some kneading, laughing as he too got some in his hair. 

Putting them to one side to rise, they laid the table and Sherlock put the red wine out. 

"I got flour in my hair." Atlas said looking down at the tips of her dark curly bob. She was standing beside John as he cut up some red onion.

"You've got a lot more flour in your hair that just the ends love." John said, Sherlock coming over and pointing to sections of it, Atlas rolling her eyes.

"Careful dad. I just spotted a grey hair." Atlas laughed.

"Grey hair? Where? Have I got another one?" Sherlock asked frantically pulling at his hair to try and see it infront of his eyes.

"Daddy!" Rosie shouted at him, giggling.

"Rosie, my dear, sweet, lovely daughter. Do I have any grey hairs?" Sherlock asked walking over and smiling at her. She giggled then plunged her hands into his hair like she did when she was still a toddler. Sherlock only now admitted that he secretly enjoyed the feeling.

"You have some grey hairs." Rosie remarked as she looked in his hair. "A lot of flour." She continued to look before pulling his head up, her little hands on his chin. "Daddy?"

"Yes?" 

"You shouldn't worry about your grey hairs." Rosie smiled, John turning to look at them - or rather Sherlock's back. "I like grey haired people the most...except for Uncle Mycroft, Aunty Eurus, Redbeard, Nana Hudson, Molly and Andrew." Pause she looked thoughtful. "Atlas! I love Atlas. And I like Sammy too." Another pause. "I like everyone." 

"You do." Sherlock said smiling at her. "And that's the wonderful Watson in you."

"Why not the Holmes?" She asked curiously.

"Because a Holmes is picky." John laughed coming over with Atlas.

"Because a Holmes finds it hard to be understood." Atlas suggested before John put a hand to her back. "But Papa and you, Rosie, are special."

"Why?" Rosie asked. 

"Because you understand Holmes. Every day, you become the perfect mix of dad and papa and of course your mother, and I hope, that one day I do too." She then continued as if it were only herself and Rosie in the room. "'Cause I've been with so many people and lived in so many houses and places that I am truly the best judge of people. And you and papa. You don't care if we say something that someone would take offence to because you know. You understand we never mean to be rude and you understand us. Your not going to judge us - which, to be frank - is when we ourselves tend to decide against being friends with someone."

"Sherlockian. Papa called it Sherlockian once." Rosie said before Atlas smiled. "I don't find it very difficult. Why don't people like Atlas and daddy, Papa?"

"It takes special people." Sherlock smiled at her. "Okay?" She nodded before wrapping her arms round her neck. Sherlock was more than confused over what the conversation had been about. As he'd read however, it was not uncommon for conversations with children to appear to have no meaning. "Now, shall we see if our pizza bases have risen enough?"


	23. Harry and Josephine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This chapter contains incredibly offensive language. I am so sorry if it upsets you.

WATCHING the ducks float by on the pond was much more interesting to Sherlock when he had a certain Miss Rosie Watson-Holmes with him. Every duck - or in some cases swan - that floated by she would point at and bounce on the bench. Eventually, once she felt safe within her surroundings she began to screech "Duck! I call that one Mr Web and there's one too! Mrs Web."

"That one's a boy aswell Ro." Sherlock would say before Rosie would sit back down - as by that point she was normally standing on the bench, Sherlock's hand gently placed on her back - and look on contemplatively. Within moments she would have another name and call it Master Web or Ducky McDuckster the gangster or Rachmaninoff The Duck or Rupert or Peter or James or George or any other name that might take her fancy in that moment. And the women at the other benches would watch and smile and leave the becoming celebrity detective alone with his child. 

Rosie was getting her cast off and she couldn't wait. Babbling about it to John, Atlas and Sherlock all morning at the breakfast bar. Her mouth half full of raspberries as she pushed some into her dad's mouth. Sherlock realised that unless he got Rosie out for some positive entertainment that morning before they were going to get some lunch from somewhere, he would have to listen to five year old witter. Which, in truth, when it was Rosie was not witter but as it always is with children, it is repetitive. So to the park they went before lunch and then onto the hospital for 1:30pm. 

Rosie couldn't wait to get rid of the pink.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS laughed along with May as they looked at the big whiteboard at the front of the classroom. Sammy sat infront with Xerxes in their Upper Sixth PSHE class and they too roared with laughter - Xerxes giving more of a smile. When set to doing some of their work, whispering began as normal. And again, as normal, it was about Atlas.

_"Hey? Did you see that freak is supposedly a Sherlock Holmes' daughter?"_

_"He already has one don't he?"_

_"Yeah he does. They have a new Instagram account."_

_"Freak has gay dads."_

_"And a gay friend."_

_"And albino."_

_"She's ginger you asshole."_

_"Yeah, but pale skin weirdo. Why doesn't she just tan?"_

_"And they have a deaf prick too."_

_"Why the frig do they bother?"_

_"Freak, albino, prick and faggy."_

_"Shh. Mrs Freeman is coming this way."_

Atlas looked to May before continuing her writing task, scribbling down with her blue ballpoint. Once Mrs Freeman had walked past the group of classmates they started again.

_"I heard freak works for the police sometimes."_

_"Well, I heard that she was shot once."_

_"I know she has the shakes. I've never seen them before though."_

_"Yeah neither have I."_

_"Do you wanna go to Daniel's party tonight?"_

_"Nah. Itll be rubbish. Let's go to Friar's Fryup though for fish and chips before we go home."_

_"Didn't freak kill her mum?"_

_"What? No way!"_

Atlas turned her head back at them at that, her knee bobbing fast under the table. May, being the good friend she was, put her hand on Atlas' knee to steady her, to let her know it was alright. 

And then her scar began to hurt. Always would and it would be painful. Not super bad but very much akin to period cramps. She put a hand over her stomach and continued to write as she tried to soothe the pulled skin but it didn't help.

_"I heard freak's aunt was in a mental asylum."_

_"How d'you know that?"_

_"Cause, have you seen her, the aunts a freak too. But even more of one. Like, doesn't speak. I've seen her painting by the river."_

_"How're you getting all this information?"_

_"From my dad."_

_"You've never told us who your dad works for." ___

__MI5 or MI6, thought Atlas as her knee started again._ _

_"Did you know that freak plays classical music?"_

__

"Ew, what even is that?" 

__

_"Also, she's just a weirdo from a weirdo family. On their Instagram it announced that Doctor Watson had adopted her. I was like, out of all the people he could've chosen he chose her to be his other daughter. Like, I would have thought he would choose a prettier model at least or one who doesn't come from such a fucked up family."_

Atlas felt her breaths getting shallower and she wondered why on earth this was affecting her. In never normally did and normally she was alright, could wait it out but right now she couldn't. She really, really couldn't and that hurt. She squeezed the pen her fist and looked up to the front of the classroom. 

__"Mrs Freeman?" Atlas said her hand shooting up as she continued to panic more and more. _It's okay Atlas. Stop being so silly about nothing. They haven't done anything they don't normally.__ _

__"Yes, Ms Watson-Holmes?" She walked to the back of the classroom and squatted down beside her desk._ _

__"Can I - I need to go to the nurse." Atlas said to Mrs Freeman who looked at her wide eyed and confused before standing and whispering something to Sammy. Sammy got to his feet, collected Atlas' bag and they made their way to the nurse's office. Where, Jill, the school's nurse was sitting with three other pupils. Sensing that Atlas wouldnt want a witness he led her along to Mr Fraggerty's classroom where he had taken up position as head of year for Lower Sixth after Mrs Pertwee._ _

__"I know we're not in your year but Atlas trusts you more than anyone else." Sammy said bursting in to find that, luckily Mr Fraggerty had no-one in. "And I would've knocked but I'm worried she's going to pass out and have a fit."_ _

__Mr Fraggerty stood up and watched as Atlas sat down in one of his chairs and crossed her legs. And slowly, in the comfort of his office she calmed, running her hands through her just-above-shoulder length unruly dark curls. She removed her glasses and gave them to Sammy's outstretched hand as he took a seat directly next to her._ _

__"I'm alright. I haven't had a fit in a few years." Atlas whispered as she put her arms around herself._ _

__"What do you want to do now?" Mr Fraggerty asked, wheeling his chair around to sit opposite her. Sammy kept his hand on her back._ _

__"I don't know, my sister's getting her cast off and my dad's taking her. And my papa is at work." Atlas said into her lap before she looked at Sammy._ _

__"What do you have next period?" Mr Fraggerty asked, Atlas looking up._ _

__"Free." Atlas replied shortly before she pulled a tissue from the box that Sammy produced. She watched as pools of water appeared on her hands before she realised she was crying._ _

__"Why don't your try ringing your papa at work?" Mr Fraggerty asked gently, Atlas shaking her head violently._ _

__"No." Atlas quipped, her hair moving wildly. "He's a doctor, I'll be okay." There was a pause. "I'll be okay." She cried before Sammy wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. "I don't understand, I don't understand, I don't understand."_ _

__"I know." Sammy whispered as he hugged her. "It's alright Atlas."_ _

__"I don't understand why I'm bothered. Nothing's wrong." Atlas cried, Sammy holding her close._ _

__"Atlas, you have endured more than most people will go through in a lifetime. You are, without a shadow of a doubt, allowed to cry and not understand why." Mr Fraggerty said, before noticing her hand on her stomach again. "And I think part of the reason is that scar of yours. So, whether you like it or not, I'm going to ring your papa and see about you going home, okay?"_ _

__"Yeah." Atlas nodded, as Sammy kept hugging her and gave Mr Fraggerty a silent thankyou._ _

__"Hello, it's North College here. Is this Doctor Watson? Doctor Watson-Holmes?" Mr Fraggerty said into the phone once John had picked up._ _

__"Hello?" John said on the other side of the line._ _

__"Hello, it's Mr Fraggerty."_ _

__"Ah yes. Your the one who Atlas likes."_ _

__"Yes. Doctor Watson, I'm calling you because Atlas has come into my office from her period three class and she is quite upset. She says she doesn't want to go home but she is acting quite distressed and anxious so I was wondering if there is a chance she can be picked up? I understand you work at the surgery and I am willing to let Sammy drop Atlas off during her free period." Mr Fraggerty said into the phone, already knowing that Sammy quite often picked up and dropped off Atlas already._ _

__"Is she okay right now?" John pried._ _

__"Yes. She's sitting in my office. Sammy said something about worrying that she was going to have a fit or seizure or something." Mr Fraggerty said into the phone. "I think Atlas needs to go home."_ _

__"She can come here to the surgery. If its alright with Sammy, he can drop her off during their free and she can come sit in our staff lounge for a while. She knows some of my colleagues already." John said._ _

__"Alright. Thank you." Mr Fraggerty said before hanging up._ _

__•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•_ _

__FLIPPING through the magazines in the staff lounge turned out to be more interesting than she initially anticipated it to be. There were loads of new scientist magazines to go through and with unique enthusiasm, she read about landslides and biological warfare and ions and eons and the Yemen humanitarian crisis and A.I. and so many other things. A few staff members came in and out to grab coffee or something to eat and eventually a lot more people came in. Atlas realised that it must be their break._ _

__And then in came John who she hadn't really spoken to since she'd arrived. She was so worried that she'd made him mad by causing him problems in his day, but he only came over and held her shoulder._ _

__"Come and sit with me in my room." He said as Atlas got to her feet, put down the article on melanoma's and followed him to his consultants office. There she sat with her feet crossed on a chair as he pulled out his pack lunch and she did the same._ _

__"Your not like mad, are you papa?" Atlas asked looking her father up and down. He gave her a funny look before smiling and laughing._ _

__"No, of course not love." John said as Atlas rifled in her bag for her fork before realising she didn't have one. She didn't know how she was supposed to eat the Gnocchi that both herself and John were eating for lunch. "Here." He said brandishing a spork, Atlas taking it from him. "I keep it spare."_ _

__"Thanks." Atlas smiled before she ate some of her gnocchi from her hot soup container._ _

__"So, what was it all about?" John asked as he ate some gnocchi. "Mr Fraggerty sounded worried."_ _

__"I don't know." Atlas replied quickly. "I don't understand. I can't understand or comprehend why I was upset. The people at the back of the class were talking about us as normal so it wasn't that."_ _

__"What do they say?"_ _

__"It doesn't matter papa. I just, I don't know what happened. I don't like not knowing." Atlas said quietly as she found comfort in the food that herself and Sherlock had made the evening before._ _

__"I know." John smiled as he continued to eat the gnocchi._ _

__"Why d'you keep looking at me?" Atlas asked John, who was looking directly at her._ _

__"Am I not allowed to look at my daughter?" John smiled, Atlas smiling back.  
"Its certainly a better view than two prostate exams and several kids with a rash."_ _

__"From the same playgroup by any chance?" Atlas asked._ _

__"You just hit the nail on the head. Chicken pox." John laughed, Atlas joining him._ _

__"Papa."_ _

__"Yes?"_ _

__"This going to sound like a weird question."_ _

__"Uhuh."_ _

__"Do people treat you differently now they probably know your gay? Especially those who need..." Atlas waited a moment. "Prostate exams."_ _

__John sighed. "I had a patient refuse to have a prostate exam by me yesterday, so yeah, they do. Or they wind me up over it."_ _

__"Oh." Atlas said before she looked up._ _

__"And that wasn't a weird question. Believe me, your father asks much weirder ones." John laughed before there was knock at the door._ _

__"Doctor Watson?" A woman said, Atlas deduced another doctor and she stepped inside._ _

__"Oh, hey Jemma." John smiled as Atlas looked to the door. Then his brow furrowed. "Your not supposed to be in today."_ _

__"I'm taking your afternoon patients and your taking your daughter home for a doctor who marathon with popcorn." Jemma said before smiling at Atlas._ _

__"Jemma, you don't have to, Atlas is alright in the staff lounge." John intervened._ _

__"John. You work too hard, overtime infact and you covered for me the other day when Tom got the stomach bug." Jemma smiled, Atlas raising Tom was her seven year old son._ _

__"Alright. But I take Mr and Mrs Jackson this afternoon. I've been with Mr Jackson since he came to me with the mole. I should be the one to tell him the results." John said, smiling sadly. _Cancer diagnosis,_ Atlas thought before Jemma left and left them to their food, John getting up to get a paper towel from the sink to mop up the gnocchi sauce he had spilt. Atlas got to her feet and made her way over to him and then, without really realising what she was doing, she hugged him. Wrapping his arms around her he rested a cheek on the crown of her head._ _

__"What's up?" He asked._ _

__"Like I said, I don't know." Atlas said, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. "You smell nice."_ _

__"Hmm thank you." John smiled a hand on her back, rubbing gently. "Mr Fraggerty said you were really upset." She sniffed a little before hugging his torso, she still didn't understand._ _

__•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•_ _

__SHERLOCK read Peter Rabbit to Rosie in the waiting room of the big hospital. She'd heard the story a million times before and was already wriggling on his lap to grasp for something else that she deemed much more interesting._ _

__"Daddy?" Rosie asked looking up at him with big eyes. "What's cancer?"_ _

__"Cancer?" Sherlock asked, stroking her hair and looking down at her._ _

__"Yeah." She said, then pointed to a board on Lukemia. Sherlock sighed, as he put down Peter Rabbit and put both arms around her._ _

__"It's something that makes people really really sick."_ _

__"Like Mary-Anne?"_ _

__"No. Not like Mary-Anne." Sherlock paused and searched for an answer. "More like Mr Chatterjee. You know how he lost all his hair and doesn't work in Speedy's anymore."_ _

__"Yeah. And Nana Hudson was crying about it." Rosie said, the man's explanation catching the ears of the other people waiting._ _

__"Was she?" Sherlock asked before Rosie nodded and made a mental note to give Mrs Hudson a well needed hug when he would next see her - which would likely be Friday as she was picking Rosie up from nursery on her way to join them for dinner. "Well, cancer can make people very ill and sometimes they will unfortunately pass away."_ _

__"Will Mr Chatterjee pass away?" Rosie asked her eyes going wide like saucers._ _

__"Rosie," Sherlock sighed, thinking about how to progress. "Yes." He swallowed. "The doctors believe it will kill him." _Smooth Sherlock. Real smooth. She's five bloody years old.__ _

__"Oh." Rosie said before looking at him. "It's life dad. Things happen. I hope he gets to come back as a horse. He liked horses."_ _

__"Come back?" Sherlock asked baffled, before it dawned on him. Atlas subscribed along with John to the idea that reincarnation occurs after death - but not in a Buddhist or Hinduist way. In a way that was humane and philosophical and beautiful in a way Sherlock couldn't quite comprehend. In fact, Rosie speaking like this made him feel as thought he too would be joining the bandwagon..._ _

__For Mary-Anne._ _

__For Josie, Olive, George and William._ _

__For the cab driver and the woman in the pink coat._ _

__For Magnussen._ _

__For Moriarty._ _

__For everyone who'd died when _he_ could've saved them._ _

__For Victor Trevor._ _

__For Eurus' lost mind._ _

__For Harry's lost control._ _

__For his family._ _

__Sherlock was ready to believe._ _

__•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•_ _

__AFTER informing Mr and Mrs Jackson that the former of the two had metatistic melanoma, John collected Atlas from the staff lounge and they hopped in the car._ _

__"Can we watch The Empty Child episode?" Atlas asked as John pulled out of the car park._ _

__"Yeah. Rosie and Sherlock won't be back until five-ish so I don't see why not." John said as he drove the new route home. "There's a sequel to that episode too, isnt there?"_ _

__"Yeah." Atlas replied as they fell into a comfortable silence. Quickly, they reached home and Atlas fumbled inside and went to her room. There she changed into a dress and tights - the combination proving to be the most comfortable quite a lot of the time - and wrapping her blue blanket around her shoulders. Then she went downstairs and into the kitchen where she got a glass of water and went over to the sofa infront of the TV._ _

__Scrolling through the series on Netflix she found The Empty Child and hit play, only to hit pause a few moments later whilst John changed aswell. When he came back down he was wearing a different, Atlas assumed more comfortable shirt and trousers. He made himself some tea and came over, the tea on the little coffee table. Sitting down he lifted up his arm and Atlas slotted in, her cheek against his chest._ _

__•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•_ _

__"DAD!" Rosie whisper shouted as she ran back to him as he toed off his shoes at the front door. "They're asleep I think."_ _

__Confusion hit Sherlok first. Atlas wasn't due home for ages yet, the college hadn't even finished sixth period then understanding. Sherlock made his way over to where, sure enough, Atlas had fallen asleep against John who also, had fallen asleep. Gently, Sherlock draped a fluffy blanket over his sleeping fianceand child, switched off the TV before going over to the kitchen._ _

__"Shall we cook something Rosie?" Sherlock asked as he lifted her to sit on the breakfast bar. She nodded eagerly. "For a change so that papa and Atlas can sleep." _They obviously need it.__ _

__"John's put the Chinese Prawns down as what's for tea tonight." Sherlock said as Rosie grinned. "Good job Daddy knows how to cook it." He put on an apron and carefully selected a pan so as to not wake Atlas and John up. There were benefits to the open plan space but there were also problems - like the one he was presented with currently._ _

__Carefully he made it, trying to make as little noise as possible - which proved difficult when it came to the onions. However, he managed to stay quiet and it was only when they were nearly finished that John began to stir. Slowly, he opened eyes and took a sniff. He could smell cooking and when he looked over he saw his brilliant partner cooking away quite happily._ _

__Gently, he rubbed Atlas' arm to stir her. She blinked a few times before looking up and seeing her dad and Rosie._ _

__"When did I fall asleep papa?" Atlas asked, looking up at John._ _

__"I don't know. I think I fell asleep not long after you." John laughed before flinging his blanket off of him and going over to Sherlock. He wrapped his arms around his torso and kissed his cheek before letting go so Sherlock could drain the pasta. Then he went over to Rosie and kissed her cheek making her giggle, as usual, she then insisted that he give one to Jeff._ _

__"How come your home?" Sherlock asked looking between John and Atlas who, in turn, looked to one another._ _

__"The school rang me." John answered as he stayed stood next to Rosie, his arm around her waist._ _

__"It was silly." Atlas intervened, Sherlock however, just raised his eyebrows._ _

__"It wasn't silly Atlas." John said with a sad smile._ _

__"But I was just being childish." Atlas tried to insist staying stood near the dog bed. However, instead of another remark from John there was one from Sherlock._ _

__"Tell me or I will deduce it. And I know that you and me with both rather if it came from you." Sherlock said as he mixed the pasta with the mix and beckoned for Atlas to take some wide bowls out the oven in preparation for the pasta._ _

__"Just people. It wasn't anything big. I just..." Atlas paused and looked at them. "They were talking and it was fine, that's what people do when your different. And I really like being different. But I don't know what happened. I was fine and then I just wanted to run you know. And I don't know, I couldn't sit still and I thought something..." she swallowed. "Bad was going to happen because it felt like it did the last few times which admittedly I haven't had one in three years, so god only knows if I'll ever have another one or not. So I asked to go see the nurse but she had too many people so Sammy took me to Mr Fraggerty who rang papa."_ _

__"And you were crying." Sherlock added as he divided out the last little bit._ _

__"Yeah." Atlas said looking af the floor. "S'pose I was."_ _

__"But your ok right now?" Sherlock asked._ _

__"Yeah." Atlas smiled as he handed John two bowls and he began to carry them over to the neatly made table. "Can I have a hug though?"_ _

__Sherlock smirked before opening his arms and letting Atlas into his embrace. It was quick, hot pasta on the side would be more aide to their grumbling stomachs than that of a hug._ _

__•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•_ _

__AND then a phone call came that evening. One which, upon reflection was more earth shattering and confusing and scary than John had ever suspected it could be._ _

__"Mum?" John said into the phone as he threw off the covers from his and Sherlock's bed and stood up. Sherlock's head perked up and he sat up, looking John up and down._ _

__"John." She said on the other side and it was then he realised how much his mother was like it was sister. Harry has been out of rehab a while now and was, at last count, attempting to reconnect with the family. John had met up with her (with the comfortable company of one Sherlock Watson-Holmes) quite a few times and she was doing better. And his mother, seemed to be accepting that being gay was okay and that it wasn't a bad thing. She appeared more comfortable on the very select, few times he'd met up with her. "John, I need your help."_ _

__"Mum? What is it? What's wrong?" John asked urgently, slicking a hand back through his hair. Swiftly he put his phone on speaker and placed it on the chest of drawers as he pulled out a pair of trousers and a t-shirt to change back into. Sherlock got the memo and did the same._ _

__" I'm outside 221B. I thought you lived there. No-ones home." His mother said into the phone and john remembered Mrs Hudson saying she was out at the theatre this evening with some friends from the "The Blueberry Book Club."_ _

__"We moved house. What's wrong mum? And where's dad and Harry?" John said, the military voice kicking in. Off to the side, Sherlock was desperately phoning Mycroft who (luckily) picked up and agreed that he would come and sit in the house with the girls and the dog until they got back._ _

__"Harry's here. She's here with me John." Jo said and John sighed._ _

__"Is she okay?"_ _

__"She can't keep her eyes open and it's raining." His mum said into the phone. "Can you help us?"_ _

__"Me and Sherlock are coming mum. What happened?"_ _

__"Your father." His mother said and Sherlock could audibly hear John swallow. They shared a look before darting down the stairs in time to see Mycroft slipping in the front door._ _

__"Rosie is sleeping and Atlas might be awake so it might be an idea to pop in and say hello." John said as he threw on his coat and left Mycroft with a nod. They hopped into the land rover and Sherlock drove for 221B Baker Street._ _

__It really was raining hard and John couldn't believe he was here again. How many more times would he have to save his mum and his sister from his father's abuse?_ _

__How many times would he have to save himself?_ _


	24. Stay On The Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this probably sucks and I put it up in a rush because I got a new phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't edit.

"MUM, stay on the phone to me." John said into the phone as Sherlock tapped his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. Pride overwhelmed John as he looked over to Sherlock who had gotten out of bed and come with him without a berating word and who, was now placing a hand on his knee and rubbing with his thumb.

They kept going along the road as they neared Baker Street and Sherlock pulled in before they both hopped out. Swiftly, they moved towards where Josephine was sitting on the doorstep and Harry. Jo was looking grey and even Harry was and John realised that Jo was far too old to be sitting on a step. And then John felt ashamed that he didn't know her exact age but he would just ask her or better still, so as to not offend her, he would ask Sherlock to deduce it.

"Harry?" John asked as he got closer and noticed his sisters black eye. When she blinked her eyes open she clutched onto his arms and he hauled her to her feet. "Harry can you hear me?" 

"Yeah, yes. Yes, yes I can." Harry said looking up at him with her matching blue eyes.

"Alright. Go over to Sherlock." John said as she walked over to Sherlock who hung his coat around her shoulders and helped her into the car. He smiled at her and she smiled back with her gingery hair.

"How much older than John are you exactly?" Sherlock asked.

"Not much older." Harry said looking at Sherlock who gave a little smile. "So are you two?"

"Engaged." Sherlock smiled as he looked back to where John was helping his mother to her feet and checking her eyes.

"You guys are good together. You have another daughter I haven't met too haven't you?" Harry asked looking at Sherlock critically.

"Yeah." Sherlock smiled. "Atlas. She's called Atlas." John came over with Jo and helped her into the other backseat of the car. "I've just officially adopted Rosie and John just officially adopted Atlas." Sherlock grinned before hopping back into the driver's seat. 

And they headed for Rosewood. 

_Home._

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

MYCROFT sat quietly on one of the chairs on the top floor at the top of the stairs. There he could be sure to catch one of the girls if they went off looking for their parents. His phone rang quite abruptly, stirring him from his paperwork for the government.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft asked into the phone.

"Its not Sherlock, it's John. We need to ask you a big favour. Could you possibly make up the bed in the spare room and put up the spare mattress with a cover too?" John asked on the other side of the line. "My mum and sister need to stay with us." There was a pause. "I know it's a big ask." 

Now, however, Mycroft was sat with Atlas looking at him. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her weird pyjama coat wrapped around her shoulders. She took the phone off of Mycroft and listened to the end of her father's plea.

"Mycroft and I will do it together. Do you need us to cook them anything?" Atlas asked into the phone.

"The soup we made earlier, heat that up. Okay?" John asked, smiling to himself. 

"Yeah." Atlas replied looking at Mycroft who looked unimpressed by her decision to pinch the phone off of him.

"Okay, thank you love." John smiled. "Put me back onto Uncle Mycroft."

"Hello." Mycroft said.

"Look after them. We'll be back soon." John said.

"I always look after my nieces." Mycroft said before hanging up and following Atlas to where they kept the spare single mattress under her bed. 

"It's quite heavy." Atlas remarked as they lifted it through into the spare room and squeezed it onto the floor. Atlas went off to get a sheet and helped fit it to the spare mattress. Together, they put a duvet on the spare mattress and towels out before they made their way downstairs to make up the soup. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

WHEN Sherlock walked in with Harry and later John with Jo, Atlas was sitting on the cabinet chatting with Mycroft. They looked fully engaged on their conversation about the security service which, worryingly, Atlas appeared to know nearly everything about. _And_ even more worrying was that she knew how all the gizmo's and gadget's actually worked barring a few.

"Just sit here." John said guiding his mother to on of the kitchen table seats, Sherlock following his lead with Harry, who's black eye was really starting to show.

"I'll be off." Mycroft smiled once it appeared he wasn't needed. "See you Saturday lunchtime?" He asked from the door.

"Yes and thank you Mycroft!" John shouted back as the older of the brothers departed the house with a sigh and one last look inside. 

Atlas brought over the soup and spoons before she went over to where the dog was lying and sat down. Sherlock however, had taken a seat at the table and were watching his mother-in-law and sister-in-law carefully. He was, in truth, deducing them and what had happened. Trying to figure out what was going on.

"We should probably get you two to a hospital at some point. And the police." John said as he too came and sat down, giving Atlas a small, worried smile. 

"Tonight you stay here. In our spare room and probably stay here until further notice." Sherlock added before he heard the creaking of some steps.

"Papa?" A little tired voice squeaked out from the big open archway into the lobby. "What's going on?" Her blue eyes were sparkling in the light and her hair was all over the place. Jeff was clutched to her chest like he normally was and John just stayed there. He didn't know how to reply or anything. How could he explain something so confusing to a five year old when he himself was confused?

"Rosie." Sherlock said getting out his seat and lifting her up. "What're you doing up?" She giggled into his neck as she tickled her tummy. 

"I heard you." She laughed as Sherlock looked back to give Atlas a look. She got to her feet, gave John a quick kiss on the cheek and went off to follow her dad, Sherlock wrapping his spare arm around her shoulders.

And then the second phone call came whilst Sherlock was settling Rosie back into bed. 

John was sitting at the table watching his sister and mother when his mother's phone rang. As she went to pick it up, John suggested she put it on speaker considering it was his father.

"Hello?" A woman's voice asked. So not his father then.

"Hello, who is this?" Jo asked, leaning forward to the phone that was placed on the table. 

"The police." 

"We don't want to get the police involved."

"I understand it's late but I'm sorry Ma'am but we have to."

"Why?" 

"I'm sorry you need to hear this ma'am, but your husband has shot himself." The police woman said on the other side of the line and John thought he'd never felt so numb. And he didn't know why because if anything, he was swarmed with relief that he would no longer be a threat to the family. 

"Okay. Thank you." Harry said before hanging up and looking at her mother poignantly. 

"I'm going upstairs, I need some sleep." Harry sighed as she stood up off the chair.

"No, you need to let me check your wounds." John said pushing her lightly by the shoulders back down onto the kitchen chair. He darted off and got his medical kit from the lab and came back out. Kneeling before him they started an explanation.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN kicked the chest of drawers hard after tidying up his sister and mother's wounds and putting them into their room. He'd applied glue to a wound above Harry's eye and then checked her ribs. When he checked his mother over, she was in a better way physically. Less injuries. But after the phone call when they had been told his dad was dead she was mentally falling. He suspected they'd be staying with them a while longer. 

Knuckles white against the edge of the chest of drawers his head down. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. The now not so ordinary mind was racing alongside his pulse and he felt like he was being strangled. He hated his dad. He _hated_ his dad. But watching his mother's face fall as she realised she was still in love with his father, still attached to him after all he did to her made John feel sick. He clamped his hand over his mouth as he let out a little cry. His sister looked so bitter when they heard, like him killing himself only made her hate him even more. 

And John was so confused. He wanted to cry and scream and shout at his father for every single thing he'd done and part of him wished he hadn't killed himself so that he could have faced the abuse charges that were bound to be coming his way. But he didn't want that. He didn't want his dad to be dead. There was something wrong when that happened, he died too early.

"Oh John." Sherlock said as he came into the bedroom from the bathroom in his pyjamas. "Okay, okay, okay." Sherlock's hand went onto John's shoulder and squeezed lightly. 

"He's dead." John said.

"Yes." Sherlock replied bluntly. 

"He's dead." John said before giving a little laugh. "He's dead." He was beginning to cry, his knuckles growing even more white. "He's dead and he's gone and he's left me again to look after them. I can't..." Sherlock just kissed John's forehead before holding him tightly to his chest. And John felt safe there in the bedroom of their new house with their wonderful children sleeping across the hallway and next door.

"I'll help you." Sherlock whispered. "They're my family now too." He rubbed his hand over John's back.

"Jesus, I love you." John said looking up at Sherlock.

"Good, because you've promised to marry me." Sherlock smirked, before kissing John. It lasted a few seconds, a contempt moment of realisation and conversation that said _I love you too._

Climbing into bed a few moments later, John lay in Sherlock's embrace for the second time that night. He continued to cry and Sherlock continued to hold him, muttering random facts that Sherlock knew would calm his fiance down. 

And when they did sleep, the light was on at the side of the room and Sherlock was still half in his casual clothes, half pyjamas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rly bad.


	25. Inclination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp.

"ATLAS?" John asked coming into the kitchen the next morning to see Atlas alone at the breakfast bar. It was early, much earlier than normal for John to get up but Atlas didn't think about this as she deduced him. When she was finished she slipped off the high chair and walked over, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

"Which, until now estranged family member, was it?" Atlas asked pulling away, her hands falling to her side.

"Don't say that too loudly." He laughed, pointing towards the spare bedroom. "It was my dad."

"Suicide or intentional murder?" Atlas asked going back over to the breakfast bar.

"Suicide." John answered after a pause for adequate amazement.

"Oh." Was all Atlas said before she went back to typing something in the notes of the new book she was planning to write with Timothy.

"I wanted to ask when your classes finish today and your free period's start?" John asked.

"After period two, so break time." Atlas replied, looking up momentarily as he put coffee in the coffee maker then onto the hob.

"Okay. I'll be by to pick you up." John said to her and Atlas furrowed her eyebrows at him. "We're going to have a barbeque out the back tonight because the weather is scheduled to be good. Just thought you'd want to spend the day at home aswell, seeing as Rosie isn't going back in until Monday. Worried she might say something about...well...you know."

"Yeah." Atlas sighed continuing to type away. "Tommorow I'm spending the day with Sammy and the others. Aba's moving."

"Oh." John said coming around to stand near her. "Where's she moving to?"

"Dubai." Atlas replied shortly, continuing to type up her essay on the conviction of Joachim Peiper in WW2. 

"Oh, love." John said slipping an arm around her shoulder and reading some of what she had written so far. "That's not too far, you can still speak to her."

"I don't like her much anyway." Atlas said quickly before John smirked at her, and rubbing her arm. 

"You do though." John smiled.

"Yeah." She sighed. "She's my friend but things change and the world changes and moves. It'll be fine." 

"If you need to talk about it, me and your dad are here, okay?" John said quietly. "I love you."

"I love you too pa." Atlas said turning to him to give him a proper hug. The fact Atlas was sitting was a great aid to John getting to give her a proper hug. Like the ones her dad would give her, where he held her head to his chest or rested his chin on her head. Then again, that's what happens when you marry a tall genius and adopt his tall genius daughter along the way, you get used to having awkward hugs.

"I know it's weird pa." Atlas said into his chest, his chin resting over her head. "To finally be rid of someone but actually wish they were alive to face charges. Or even worse, to be rid of someone and the police never knowing where to look. Or the worst of all, to be rid of someone you hate, only to realise that you care for them after all." There was a brief pause. "You loved your dad, pa. No matter what he's done or did to you, you still love him. And you will never loose the feeling. You know the feeling I'm on about. Just, promise not to do anything silly."

"I'm not going to do anything silly." John laughed before it died in his throat. "Is that-" He swallowed. "Did Sherlock-"

"Attempt suicide because he wanted to be rid of my mother so he outed her, only to realise he loved her?" Atlas finished for him. "Yes. He did. He felt like he'd lost her and it was his fault. Essentially he had lost her, but he'd lost her a long time before he submitted her for medical help. So, papa, promise me...?"

"Promise?"

"To not do anything silly." Atlas whispered.

"I won't."

"Good, cause I don't think I could handle another parental figure dying. Especially not you. Especially not when you help make up the best set of parents I've ever had." Atlas said hugging him close. 

"Really? I'm the best? There are a lot of great men in the world." 

"Pa." Atlas replied sternly. "You are the joint greatest man I know - the other obviously being dad-"

"Obviously." John smiled. Atlas laughed.

"And you love me, which is more than can be said for most of the people who have cared for me. And your the first one to actually adopt me and go for it. That makes you and will always make you my papa, my dad, my father, the man who, probably with dad, will walk me down the aisle, the man who I will have to get boyfriends past, the man who'll help me when I break up with a boyfriend and tell me guys are useless despite being married to and being one himself, the man who will give me a hug and help me with homework and help me get into university and the man who, when the time comes, I will look after in return." There was no reply from John, just a quiet sniffle as he held her head to his chest. "I love you." 

"I love you too." John whispered into her hair, he pulled away and looked at her. "Look, you've made your old man cry." John laughed wiping at his eyes, Atlas responding the same way. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

_**May: Yo, Atlas, you coming in today?**_

_**Atlas: I was going to when I got up and spoke to my papa but then I spoke to my dad and I'm staying off. My pa's aunt and mum (I dont call them my aunt and grandma) are staying and my pa's dad committed suicide so...yeah, it's a bit shit.** _

_**Sammy: Sorry man.** _

_**Xerxes: What about the meeting we're supposed to be having during our free periods?** _

_**May: get together.** _

_**Xerxes: get together then. 😡** _

_**Atlas: 😂** _

_**Sammy: 😂🤣😅😂** _

_**Atlas: idk. I'll talk to my dads about it. I can probs still meet you guys at the library or maybe if I'm really lucky you guys can come over.** _

_**Xerxes: Xerxes smells like weed.** _

_**May: Hello Elliot.** _

_**Xerxes: it's not elliot.** _

_**Sammy: Peter?** _

_**Xerxes: no.** _

_**May: Hale?** _

_**Xerxes: no.** _

_**Sammy: well we know it can't be Issac, Steven or Robert 'cause they're too young to form a sentence. Curse you Xerxes and your six siblings. I know it's elliot cause he's the only one who's older.** _

_**Xerxes: It was elliot. And it wouldn't have been Hale, she's the only mature one in the entire house.** _

_**May: preach.** _

_**Sammy: does she still have connection with her parents?** _

_**Xerxes: she did but no, not anymore.** _

_**Atlas: my dads say you guys can't come over but we could still meet at the library?** _

_**May: yeah.** _

_**Xerxes: hell yeah.** _

_**Sammy: Yep.** _

_**Atlas: thx guys. What time?** _

_**May: 1 or 2?** _

_**Atlas: wait, dudes...what about Abayomi? She hasn't replied to any of our messages in chat?** _

_**Sammy: idk. She hasn't messaged me.** _

_**May: me neither.** _

_**Xerxes: or me.** _

_**Xerxes: Hale is asking if she can join us this afternoon. She wants to join the club.** _

_**Atlas: yeah course she can.** _

_**May: I like hale. It's so cool how you guys are siblings but like two months apart in age.** _

_**Xerxes: and a nightmare, believe me. But like, I think Hale wants to permanently join the group.** _

_**Atlas: that would be okay. We're going to be a member down soon.** _

_**May: guys. Dont forget, Aba is still in this chat.** _

_**Atlas: shit.** _

_**May: gotta go, been spotted.** _

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"IT'S our song!" Rosie squealed as "The Best of You" by Andy Grammer started playing through the speaker from Atlas' spotify playlist. Sherlock was standing making scrambled eggs for Rosie whilst John ate toast at the breakfast bar, newspaper in hand. Atlas had jumped onto the counter again with a bowl of cereal.

"It _is_ our song." John smiled, ruffling Rosie's hair. Harry and Jo were still sleeping, although they had heard the shower going earlier, so they were expecting someone downstairs relatively soon. 

Singing along to the song they were jolly, smiling, enjoying one another's company. 

_'Cause the best of me loves the best of you  
And all the rest, I can see right through  
You trust me and I'll trust you too  
'Cause the best of me loves the best of you _

Jo heard the singing from upstairs and she smiled to herself from the en suite. They sounded happy, her _son_ sounded happy. This was his family, his house, his home and she was filled with relief. Her little boy, who should of been the one being protected, was the one who used to protect herself and Harriet. 

Slowly and cautiously, so as to not disturb them, she made her way down the stairs that led to the lobby. Then, she stood and watched them all singing to a song that sounded like My Interpretation by MIKA. She smiled to herself as she watched Sherlock tilt his head back and sing, only to receive a hug round his middle and peck on his cheek from John. 

"Your songs are better than papi's or daddy's." Rosie giggled looking at Atlas before continuing to colour the outline of a dog that looked remarkably like Rebeard. Then again, it could very well be Redbeard, considering that Eurus quite often drew pictures of things for Rosie to colour in. All sorts of outlines and colours littered every room of the house, even rooms Rosie hardly ever visited.

"Good morning." Jo said eventually, after she felt like the amount of time she had spent watching was bordering on awkward or inappropriate. She entered the room as Atlas turned down the music playing on her speaker as Sherlock served up the boiled egg for Rosie. He then cut her toast in strips and gave them to her.

"Soldiers! You made soldiers!" Rosie exclaimed, looking at him with big blue eyes. 

"I did." Sherlock laughed as he flipped the tea towel over his shoulder. 

"Hello. What's your name?" Rosie said, registering her voice in a lower octave and picking up a soldier with her right hand. Then, with her left, she picked up another soldier and began creating a conversation that ultimately - as always - resulted in both soldiers having to be dipped in the lake before being eaten by the big hungry monster which was Rosie. Atlas watched fondly before she jumped off the counter, put her bowl in the sink and reopened her laptop at the breakfast bar.

"Ah-ah." John scolded as he closed the laptop lid back down. "No more homework this morning young lady." 

"Papa..." Atlas whined as she reopened it.

"No, I know your worried about missing all your classes today and tommorow but no homework, essay's or _any_ form of school work." John said, closing it again and taking the laptop from her and putting it back over on the coffee table. "I'll help you with that essay you were doing on Pieper. I think I have a documentary on it with the original footage on it. We can look at it on the weekend?" 

"Really? I've been looking for it online and I can't find any of it." Atlas exclaimed as she looked at John wide eyed. 

"Yeah, I'll have a look for it and then we'll watch it on Sunday." John said, smiling as he put a hand on top of her head.

"Okay." Atlas contentedly sighed before she looked back over to Rosie. "Morning Jo." Atlas smiled at her, reminding everyone in the room to her being in there. 

"Good morning!" Rosie said as she lifted up some greasy hands, exclaiming in weird excitement. Completely comfortable with the woman she, at last count, was incredibly wary off. "Your the nice one!"

"The nice one?" Atlas asked, tilting her head to one side curiously.

"Yeah. The nice one." Rosie replied, going back to dipping her toast into her egg. Atlas immediately understood and left before the conversation got any more confusion. She didn't understand and didn't want to engage in conversation so, sneakily she collected her laptop and went upstairs.

"I'm sorry, Rosie, I don't follow." Jo said as Rosie inspected the soldier she was planning to dip into the egg.

"I dont like the other one." Rosie said.

"Harry?" Sherlock asked, leaning on the counter.

"No! I like Harry. She's like Aunty Eurus."

"God, I didn't think about the total world domination if those two meet." John sighed, a smirk painting his face.

"Dont worry, Mycroft has Eurus essentially electronically tagged with some experimental chip." Sherlock laughed.

"That doesn't help." John said, chuckling as he looked over to Rosie. "Was it the white haired scotsman?"

"Yes. Don't like." Rosie said munching on her toast.

"John Senior." John sighed as he sank into one of the breakfast bar stools and rested his temple on his fist.

"Yeah! He had the same name as you papi!" Rosie exclaimed as she finished her eggs.

"Right miss, go find Atlas and make sure she isn't doing any work and if she is doing work, even if she isn't, you and Atlas can take the dog for a walk past the music shop." Sherlock said as he flashed a tenner before the five year olds eyes. It was swiftly becoming Atlas and Rosie's favourite past times as they enjoyed browsing sheet music, and then, together they would select one for Atlas or Sherlock or both to play whilst Rosie would dance around with John. Sherlock lifted Rosie off the stool as she dashed off to find her sister.

"You'll be expected to wear a kilt you know." Jo said as she came to sit where Rosie was.

"Coffee?" Sherlock asked before Jo nodded and he poured her some out. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Just as it is, is fine." Jo said as she took the mug from Sherlock who smiled.

"I can go if you want to talk." Sherlock smiled as he removed the towel from his shoulder and started to walk past John, when the older man caught his sleeve between his fingers.

"No..." John said. "Would you stay?" The older man asked with pleading eyes, shining in unshed tears.

"Yeah, of course." Sherlock said, coming around to stand by John, a hand wrapped around his shoulder. And Jo could see how much they needed each other.

"Do I have to wear a kilt?" John whined.

"John." Jo said warningly. "Your name is John Hamish Watson. Need I remind you that all of your fathers side are from various points in the highlands, from Ardnamurchan to Dunnet Head to Inverness to Aviemore." Jo laughed, which caused John to give a little smirk. Sherlock smiled as he learnt more of John's secretive history except for what he already knew: his father was once a drunk and abusive and that his father's side was 100% scottish.

"I know it's early and your probably still grieving," Sherlock said, before reaching a hand out to John's wrist, pulling it from his temple and wrapping his fingers within his partners. "But do you know where the funeral will take place?"

"Most likely somewhere near Inverness. Maybe north of that or maybe slightly west. He bought a lair though, so I suspect we'll wait and see." Jo smiled, before reached a hand out to touch the hand that was resting in his lap. "Thank you. Both of you. For letting me and Harry stay with you on such short notice. You didn't have to and I know you have the girls and the dog and lots of ot-"

"I'm glad you rang me." John said, smiling weakly as he looked down at where Rosie had spilled some yolk. Jo's eyes caught John's in confused disbelief. "No, really, I'm glad you rang us mum." John said, his smile growing stronger as she grabbed her hand. "Your my mum and Harry is my sister. Your my family." John looked up at Sherlock who gave a little nod. "Your _our_ family. Your Atlas and Rosie's grandmother so I'm so glad you rang me."

"Your father was a bastard really, wasn't he?" Jo smiled as she held onto John's hand and squeezed it. 

"Yeah." John laughed as Sherlock squeezed his other hand, John leaning against his partner's torso.

"So, are you two?" Jo asked. "The last time I checked you were just together."

"We're engaged." John smiled as he looked up at Sherlock, who's mouth was threatening to tear into a smile. "We have planned how we're doing it and it's going to be just us two, Rosie and Atlas at the registry office and then we're going to have a get together the day after here at the house. Friends and family, all that." 

"Brave to have only the two of you and the children." Jo said, however, she did not come across annoyed but as if she was fully accepting of the decision.  
"Who are going to be your witnesses?" 

"We're not one hundred percent sure on that yet. We think we are going to pay for witnesses to avoid family fall outs." John said, giving a weak smile. "Sherlock has quite a few family members and we have quite a few close friends, all of which will be at the small get together the following day." 

"How old is Atlas?" Jo asked.

"Sixteen." John replied. 

"Seventeen at the end of the year." Sherlock added, smiling to himself like a proud school boy.

"Is she? Have you?" Jo asked, looking at John cautiously.

"I adopted her." John smiled and the way he said it mad him sound like he wanted to burst. "And I know you maybe think that's biza-"

"No. She's a brilliant girl and she loves you John. The way she looks at you and the way you look at her. What about Rosie?" Jo asked.

"I adopted Rosie." Sherlock smiled. "We just need to get married now." There was a chuckle at the back of his throat that spread to his chest and warmed John. 

"You know, John, your a pretty cool little brother." Harry said coming into the kitchen as she moved to stand behind her mother.

"That's good to know." He smiled. "How's your head?" 

"Better." Harry smiled, remaining standing.

"What would you like to eat?" Sherlock asked, putting the tea towel back over his shoulder. He walked around the other side of the breakfast bar and put the pan from Rosie's eggs away in the sink. "We have granola and porridge and loads of other things. Rosie is the most fussy eater known to man."

"I'll have some granola." Harry smiled before she got off the stool and stood to help Sherlock.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

_**Atlas: Hey guys. I'm not coming today.**_

_**May: you said you could earlier, is everything okay?** _

_**Atlas: sorry.** _

_**Xerxes: s'okay man. See you tommorow.** _

_**•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•** _

_**Sammy: I thought I'd ask you privately. You okay?** _

_**Atlas: yeah. Just don't wanna meet up and I know that sounds awful. I just dont think I can. I want to chill with my dads.** _

_**Sammy: it's okay. Do you want me to come over this afternoon?** _

_**Atlas: no. It's okay.** _

_**Sammy: I dont trust you rn** _

_**Atlas: sorry. 🤷♀️** _


	26. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has a seizure and it's badly written. Please don't kill me.

FRIDAY brought sadness as the group of five friends met up for the last time. They exchanged hugs and tokens before saying their final goodbyes. And then Abayomi had left the group, just as fast as the group had been formed.

That evening, Abayomi left the group chat and flew for Dubai.

And that evening the group of four met up, without Aba, only to disband the club.

The society was no more.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"WHAT _are_ you doing?" John asked on Friday night as Atlas stood infront of where he was sat on the two seater sofa infront of the TV. He looked at her with a tilted head as he awaited her reply, lifting a hot mug of tea to his lips. Jo and Harry were sharing the other sofa whilst Sherlock and Rosie were sat together on one of the chairs off to the side.

"Waiting for you to put your mug of tea down." Atlas huffed before John removed the mug from his lips and looked at her.

"Why?" John asked warily as he slowly put the tea down on the coffee table. When it clinked against the glass Atlas sat down next to him with her knees drawn up to her chest. Then, leaned against him, her legs still neatly tucked.

"That was your way of saying, 'please give me a hug because I'm sad but I won't say why, but can I have a hug anyway?'" A brief pause of mild satisfaction. "Wasn't it?" John smiled as Atlas nodded against him. "What's up then?" He rested two arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

"The group, club, society, whatever you want to call it is no more." Atlas mumbled against John.

"Friends change and people move on." John huffed as his eyes caught Sherlock's who was watching with concerned eyes.

"I know. Just, I really liked May and Xerxes, but Aba was our glue. We don't have our glue anymore." Atlas said against John, who rubbed her back.

"I know it's difficult sweetheart." John said before he huffed out a sigh and looked over to where his mum was smiling sadly at him and Harriet was gazing towards the TV.

"It'll get better." Atlas huffed.

"That it will." John confirmed with a quiet, gentle smile.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SATURDAY morning brought a similar set of a affairs as the previous two, with Atlas, Rosie, Sherlock and John sharing morning's with Harriet and Josephine. It was not bad, but it was not something they were becoming easily accustomed to. Harry, it turned out, had a sense of humour that neither Atlas nor Sherlock could understand but one that sent John into a fit of laughter before his face would fall. Neither Atlas nor Sherlock liked that. They didn't want John to feel bad about laughing, just because they couldn't understand why he was laughing to begin with. 

This particular morning however, Atlas when in the shower, found that herself and Sherlock had promptly run out of their favourite shampoo.

"Dad!" Atlas shouted down the hallway, wrapped in a towel to cover herself. Only her head was visible in the doorway.

"Yeah?" Sherlock asked, appearing in the hallway from downstairs.

"Our shampoo. We've run out." Atlas said quickly and dramatically, as if it was the worst thing in the world, which, was debatable at this current moment in time. And when Sherlock's head of curls finally appeared, she realised that he'd obviously made do and used Rosie's child shampoo. His hair was a mass of frizzy curls that he'd obviously tried to calm down with some water or mousse, but that hadn't worked.

Atlas looked at him and tilted her head, trying to stifle a laugh. "If I also use Rosie's will you plait it for me?" She flickered her eyelashes as he sighed, gave an eye roll and begrudgingly nodded.

"Alright." He huffed although he knew and she knew that he would enjoy plaiting it. Sherlock found a comfort in the way that all it was was a gentle strand ove strand pattern to create something that was arguably beautiful and it made him smile everytime.

When she returned downstairs her hair was indeed nothing but frizz and she sighed. Carrying a hairbrush and two hair bobbles she plonked herself by Sherlock's feet where he sat reading a book on the sofa. Harry and Jo were about, with Rosie currently showing them all her schoolwork that she'd been doing and the picture's she'd drawn which had been pegged to a long piece of painted wood. The wood was painted like the sea, with a toppling boat, one of Atlas's and Rosie's many joint comissions. 

"Hairbrush." Sherlock said as Atlas produced the hairbrush and he brushed it carefully. Running his clean fingers through it and rubbing gently. He pulled her hair tight and neatly plaited it into a short plait. 

"I'm guessing we ran out of shampoo?" John smiled, walking to the sofa and sitting down. 

"Yeah." Atlas sighed as Sherlock continued to plait her hair, tugging gently as he tucked the strands over, round and down. 

"I'm going shopping this morning." John sighed, groaning as he sat down on the sofa, watching carefully. "Do either of you want to come?" 

"Can I come pa?" Atlas asked, looking up at him as Sherlock finished her hair.

"Yeah." John smiled as he kissed Sherlock sweetly. "The benefit of Rosie's shampoo is that it smells really nice." Another kiss before they exchanged a laugh and John got up. "Put your shoes on and we'll go in a moment." Atlas watched as John quickly asked Rosie, Jo or Harry if they wanted to come, but none of them did before darting off to use the loo

"Atlas." Sherlock said just as Atlas was about to leave the big, open living area. 

"Yeah?" She swivelled as John came down to stand next to her.

"John Freida." Sherlock smiled.

"Yep." Atlas said before continuing. "But the one that says 'new formula' because the old formula makes our heads and faces itch." 

"That's the one." Sherlock smiled before he began tweeting away on his phone again.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SHOOT." John said when they were in the bread aisle of Tesco's. Tesco had, in recent weeks, become the best friend of John. Cheaper than Waitrose but kept the quality. He would rather shop at Asda but he knew fine well himself that he lived with three of the most pickiest eaters this side of the galaxy and he wasn't about to enter another food shopping war with his fiancé.

"You alright?" Atlas asked as she came back to the trolley with a box of cupcake casings and decorations. Rosie really wanted to bake and had been mithering Atlas for days about doing it and ultimately, Atlas couldn't resist the deep blue eyes, cute smile and the fact that Jeff too, was desperate to bake. 

"Yeah, just forgot to pick up some mushrooms." John sighed as he massaged his shoulder gently.

"Wait here. I'll get them and then _I,_ not you, will push the trolley." Atlas said before she darted off to collect some mushrooms for one of the upcoming evening's meal. John smiled to himself as he massaged at the injury lightly. It sometimes got like this. Periods of time that would haunt him and it would feel like the same as the day he got shot. 

"She yours?" A lady asked as she sidled up next to him as he watched Atlas disappear.

"Sorry?" John asked as he looked to the neat and tidy woman. She had her hair pinned back strictly and she gave off a calming, gentle energy. John figured she couldn't be much older than himself.

"Is she your daughter?" The woman asked again.

"Yeah, yes she is." John smiled as he looked to the woman. 

"She seems lovely. I've seen her in here before with another man..." The woman said, pausing as shd thought of how to describe him. "Tall man, dark haired, really resembles your daughter."

"Oh, she'll have been in with my partner." John smiled as he continued to massage his shoulder. There was a quiet pause. "Yeah, they come in together quite a lot, sometimes with my other daughter too. I think they buy things behind my back to use on their experiments."

"Is your shoulder paining you?" She asked politely.

"War wound in Afghanistan." John said before the other woman gave a small smile. Just then Atlas returned and put the mushrooms in the trolley along with purple bottles of shampoo and conditioner which they hadn't picked up already. 

"Hello." Atlas squeaked when she saw the woman, before she ducked behind John and looked at some of the stuff on the shelf. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." John smiled as he looked at her.

"Elizabeth." She smiled. "Elizabeth Mellark." 

"Nice to meet you, John Watson-Holmes and this is Atlas Watson-Holmes." He gestured behind him where Atlas looked up, gave a momentary smile and went back to what she was looking at. "I'm sorry but we really have to get on. My partner and I are having some family over this afternoon." John smiled before he began to make his way to the checkour, Atlas pushing the trolley. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"TOUR!" Rosie squealed from where she was sitting on the floor. Alarming everyone to her sudden excitement at the prospect. "Grandma and Grandad need a proper tour and so does Aunty Eurus and Uncle Mycroft and Harry and Jo." She was getting to her feet and trying to haul Wanda and Mycroft to their feet.

"Alright Rosamund. I'm just coming." Mycroft smiled as he got to his feet. "Will you be our tour guide?" 

Rosie nodded eagerly as she took Mycroft's hand. "And papa." She exclaimed pointing at John and hauling _him_ to his feet aswell. "And daddy."

"I can't Ro." Sherlock sighed as he sat on the breakfast bar stool with Atlas on his left. "I have to help Atlas out with her homework."

"Okay." Rosie smiled before herself and John began leading everyone up the stairs and onto the music landing. 

Downstairs, Atlas typed up the answers to a maths question she had asked her dad to help her with.

"Yes. Yeah, because what do they do?" Sherlock asked as Atlas looked at him.

"They cancel each other out." Atlas said excitedly as if she had cracked a really big puzzle and in reality she had.

"Exactly. And that means?" He asked again as Atlas just looked at him as he watched the cogs turning in her head. 

"That the answer is four." She said before she typed in the answer.

"Yep." Sherlock laughed as he gave one of the widest smiles she'd seen.

"Thanks dad." Atlas said.

"Of course. You get stuck again, ask me." Sherlock said before Atlas began to take out her plaits. "Let me." Sherlock smiled, taking it from her and undoing them. 

"Thank you." Atlas said again before they exchanged a little smile. Sherlock got up from his seat and went over to wash out his mug of tea. 

Atlas then checked through her emails where she was always having new homework and other things popping up. They were empty and just as she was going to switch it off, she had a thought. She hadn't sifted through her personal emails in a while. Clicking on it she checked through her Microsoft account and found that there was ntohing of importance. Then, she remembered her Gmail and she checked through that aswell. As she was nearing the bottom her eyes caught sight of something peculiar. An email from an unknown source.

It read as follows:

_Hello Atlas,_

_I just wanted to send you one final note. It's hurried, but know that it comes from the heart._

_You ruined my life._

_Every. Last. Piece._

_If you hadn't turned up to the crime scene then I wouldn't be on my way to serving jail time. My husband was a cruel man and he deserved to die. You ruined me._

_How does that make you feel?_

_Bet you feel proud? Thrilled? Exhilarated?_

_Well you should be ashamed. Now I have people watching you and your family. And those people, can sometimes get a little trigger happy from time to time._

_And it's going to be on you._

_Because that's the point._

_That's the whole point Atlas Holmes._

_I'm going to destroy you._

_You know I can._

_You know I will._

_But how will you fight it?  
_

Atlas drew in a sharp breath before she tried to read between the lines. 

_Family. Family. Not safe. Rosie. Papa. Dad. Not dad. Save dad. Save papa. Save Rosie. Mycroft too? Eurus? Timothy. Wanda. Harry. Josephine. No. Don't take them away. I finally have a family._

Unintentionally, Atlas felt her stomach rising in a panic she couldn't describe. Her hands began to shake and tears fought at her eyes like wasp stings in summer. 

The last line of the email was clear:

_Hope your well, Alison._

And Atlas' world went black.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ROSIE showed and pointed lots of different drawings and things out to her family across the room. She darted about showing pieces of artwork to various people, everyone splitting up to make a judgement for themselves. 

"Lovely." Wanda smiled as Rosie handed her a slip of paper with a colouring of Redbeard on it. 

"It's lovely what you've done with it." Timothy smiled.

"Sherlock, it was all Sherlock."

"But it takes a family to make it a home." Josephine added as she rose from looking at some tissue paper roses that Rosie had made at nursery a few weeks earlier. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK'S back was turned as he continued to babble on about some other chemical experiment he wanted to give a go. He washed through the mug carefully and waited for Atlas' calculated input to arrive. But it never came. The prolonged pause drawing out to a dizzying length that was uncomfortable and uncertain. He whipped around ready to give a humourous remark to his daughter only to watch as her eyes ungracefully rolled into the back of her head, her body tensing as she slumped against the breakfast bar.

"Atlas?" Sherlock asked as he approached carefully. "Are you-" Only stopping himself as her form began to fall off the table. "Woah." He caught her, lying her down on the floor just in time as she began to convulse violently, eyes rolling into the back of her head. "Okay, okay." Sherlock knew what to do as he arranged her into the recovery position and loosened off her shirt buttons that were done all the way up. 

"John!" Sherlock yelled up to the ceiling, an urgency in his voice as he checked his watch. John didn't reply, to his knowledge it was probably Sherlock just being silly again. "John!" Sherlock shouted again to the ceiling.

"Alright, alright I'm just coming." John said, weaving through his family members to look over the banister to the kitchen area below. What his eyes were showing him was not what he expected to see. "Christ, is she?" Was all he said before he darted down the stairs off the landing and went into the open living area. Sherlock had already pulled the blanket off the sofa and made a makeshift pillow for her head and was now in the process of waiting. The hardest part. 

"Yes, she's having a fit. Tissue." Sherlock ordered, John standing watching on in painful realisation that you can be a doctor, but nothing will ever prepare you for seeing your own child going through something. "John, tissue." John still didn't move as the remaining family members began to make their way down the stairs. He felt frozen as he watched on helplessly, ignorant to his doctors initiative that couldn't break through his fatherly skin. "John, standing there isn't going to help. I need a tissue, she's bitten her tongue and her mouth is bleeding. There's blood in her saliva. I need a tissue." 

And suddenly Doctor Watson snapped into play and he came around, seizing a tissue on his way over. He folded it and placed it under her mouth to catch the saliva that was falling from her mouth. "Okay, okay. It'll be okay." He whispered, despite knowing that Atlas couldn't hear him. The convulsions continued as Rosie let out a scared cry behind them. 

"Come here, Rosamund." Mycroft said softly, squatting down to her height. She had Jeff clutched to her chest. "I know it's scary, hell, even I'm finding this scary, but it'll be okay. Atlas will be okay." Mycroft looked over to his brother who was checking his watch again.

"What're we at?" John asked Sherlock, who frowned.

"Three minutes, five seconds." 

"Just under two minutes left."

"Until what?" Harry asked from the gaggle of family. 

"Until we need to call an ambulance." John replied looking to his sister.

"But it's her first fit." Wanda said quietly. "Surely you call an ambulance if it's their first-"

"It's not her first." Sherlock replied, refusing to look at his siblings or parents. Only looking at John, who placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Atlas experiences Non Epileptic Seizures. Difficult to diagnose as many people with NES will be diagnosed with straight up epilepsy. NES occurs when people get exceptionally anxious or stressed or any number of things. When she was little, it primarily happened when she was overwhelmed or..." Sherlock dropped his head and his voice. "when she had a sensory overload." 

And if John's head didn't snap up faster than the speed of light. He'd never known they were a thing that happened to Sherlock and Atlas but he should have been able to see it. Or at least be suspicious that it was there, he was a doctor for God's sake.

"Come on little Rosamund. We'll go outside with Redbeard." Eurus said, as the little girl walked over and took her aunts hand. The rest of the family followed on to go outside as Atlas continued to have a fit.

After twenty or so more seconds her seizure began to draw to a conclusion as Sherlock let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. They waited with baited breath for her to come round, Sherlock clutching John's hand tightly. 

However, it didnt last as her eyes opened and Sherlock slid down to lie on his side opposite her. The tissue now being folded by John then carefully deposited in the bin. 

"Hey." Atlas said, looking at him. She reached out a tired hand to touch his hand. 

"Hello." Sherlock smiled.

"Did I bite my tongue?" Atlas asked.

"Yes." Sherlock frowned at her.

"Oh man. I got blood on my shirt. Why do I have to bite my gum or tongue every time? It's so annoying." Atlas smirked, allowing for a little bit of laughter to arise from Sherlock's chest. She started to sit up, only to feel herself being guided back down again by warm hands. 

"Stay lying down. From my understanding, it's been a while since your last convulsive seizure. Your not going to bounce back as fast as the last time." John warned as Atlas lay back down nodding. Sherlock swiping her hair out of her face gently as she looked out the double doors. 

"I can send them home." John said. "Don't worry ab-"

"No, I want them to stay. They're our family. If I end up napping against someone, I don't give them permission to care." Atlas said, making John chuckle as he sat down on the floor, groaning. "You don't have to sit on the floor."

John looked at her amused. "Why not?"

"Because your old. Your both _really_ old." She joked with a smile.

"Hey, we're not that old." John laughed before Atlas slowly began to sat up. She looked at Sherlock for guidance as he squatted by her and helped her up onto her feet.

"You alright?" Sherlock asked gently, a reassuring hand placed to her back in comfort. She nodded quietly before looking up at him. "Sofa or bedroom?" Sherlock asked, Atlas looking at him before walking away and sitting on the sofa. She stared into the distance as she rested her temple against her fist, elbow flush with arm of sofa. 

"Atlas." John said quietly coming over, watching as she scanned him carefully with her eyes. 

"Yeah?" She asked quietly before stifling a yawn.

"What caused it?" John asked quietly, coming over and standing near her.

"This." Sherlock said from by the breakfast bar. "Why didn't you tell us?" He unplugged her laptop and passed it to John who looked at it before frowning. 

"How long as she been getting in contact with you?" John asked sternly as his eyes caught Atlas'.

"I don't know. This is the first one of them I've read." Atlas said before Sherlock being the person he was, picked up the puffet and moved it to sit opposite her. The laptop still with John who was standing.

"It's dated about a week or so back." John said unconvinced and aware that it wouldn't be unlike a Holmes to lie to save the family members. "I'm going to get Mycroft to look into these claims." He added before going outside and collecting Mycroft and only Mycroft. 

Before he set to work phoning various officials however, he came over put a hand to Atlas' shoulder. She stood and engulfed him in a hug, which he took as he smiled. "I'll look into it Atlas, don't worry about it." 

"Thanks." Atlas whispered before Mycroft disappeared into the lobby to make some phone calls and she was left with her dads. 

"I didn't read the email till today I promise and she hasn't contacted me in any other way. I promise papa I'm not lying, dad I'm really not lying. Please believe me, I didn't know. I was at the scene and now I feel like she's coming back." She paused for breath. "And I know she can't and that makes me stupid but I don't want my family to die. Not when I've never really had one. I don't want them all to be taken away from me. You have to believe me, I didn't know. I didn't know." 

When she paused to take breath again and Sherlock tilted his head up at her.

"C'mere." Sherlock said as he opened his arms. "I believe you." There was a quiet pause. "I'll always believe you." Atlas cried at that and entered her dad's embrace, awaiting to hear John's sigh but it never came. Before she knew it was happening she felt herself being hugged by another person, John. She could smell his jumper. 

"I'll always believe you too." John said softly. "It'll be okay. I'm sorry if it looked like I didn't believe you." 

"It's okay papa." Atlas said as she rubbed the side of her nose against his shoulder. "It's just a bit shit, it's all just a bit shit." 

"Do you want me to let them in?" John asked, before Atlas nodded against him. "Okay then." John said as he moved away and Sherlock took up his position, making residence on the sofa next to her. An arm pulling her into his side. 

"Atlas!" Rosie screamed as she came inside. Her face was streaked in tears from her non-stop crying and she wailed some more. "At! At! Atlas!" She sobbed as she ran towards her, Jeff flinging around in her hand. "Atlas." And just as she was about to jump up onto Atlas, she stopped. Quiet consideration.

"Are you okay?" Rosie asked quietly, scuffing her foot against the wooden floor.

"Yeah, I'm fine Ro." Atlas said sitting out of their dad's hold. She reached out two hands to take Rosie's as she climbed up and sat down in Atlas's lap. 

"Why were you shaking?" Rosie sobbed with teary blue eyes at Atlas. Everyone else came to sit somewhere in the room, Redbears curling gaily by the fire. 

"I had a seizure." Atlas quipped. 

"But your staring ones don't look like that." Rosie said looking at her, Jeff being clutched tighter to her chest. 

"Because they are a different type." Atlas smiled quietly looking at her. "And I know it was scary..."

"Can you promise not to do it again?" Rosie asked quietly, teeth sucking her bottom lip. 

"No. No, I can't." Atlas said.

"Rosie, sweetheart." John said coming to sit on the sofa next to Sherlock. "It's not something Atlas can control. It just happens." 

"But your a doctor. Why can't you make her better?" Rosie wailed as she stayed sat in Atlas' embrace.

"Because he can't. Because it's not going to go away. Having a seizure or a fit or a convulsion or whatever you want to call it, in my case, is sorted and reduced through medication. Having one today, means my GP, who is not papa because that's not allowed, got it wrong. And that the medication I am on to reduce the reaction in my brain to certain situations isn't working." Atlas said quietly. "And I know that's hard to understand but having a fit doesn't make me ill. I'm not ill, okay. I'm fine." 

"Okay." Rosie whispered. "I understand." She snuggled against Atlas.

And then the rain started.


	27. It's Number 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad. I didn't edit.

AN indoor barbecue, as it turns out, better suited the family gathering. Sherlock was on cooking with Timothy and Josephine whilst Harry and Rosie sat and spoke to Redbeard. Eurus was sketching away in her notebook while John and Wanda sorted through some paperwork. Mycroft sat with Atlas.

"Uncle Mycroft." Atlas asked, looking up at him with diamond eyes.

"Yes?" Mycroft asked quietly.

"Humans: you don't like them. Interaction: you detest. Why me? Why are you sitting with me?" Atlas asked.

"Because your my niece and I'll care an awful lot and continue to care through your hard times. I'm giving you a hug because sources provide evidence that it can soothe people when they are feeling sad or down." Mycroft said looking away before he looked down at her. "Is that right?" 

"More or less." Atlas smirked as she leaned against him. "You know Uncle Mycroft and you might struggle to understand this all, but I love you." 

He pulled her closer to him at that and whispered. "Good job I love you too." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ME and your dad have been chatting." John said as he came to sit by Atlas, on the two seater sofa. "It looks like Harry and Jo need to stay a while longer-"

"And you want to give Harry my room." Atlas sighed before she gave a tired smile. Eurus, Mycroft, Wanda and Timothy had already gone home and Atlas was extremely tired. "Yeah. We just need to put new bedding on and hoover through. That and put a bed out in Rosie's room..."

"It's already done." John laughed, causing Atlas to smile.

"You knew I'd say yes." Atlas said leaning back against him.

"Yup." John accented.

"I'm saying yes for nobody but them. I know what it's like to need somewhere to go after..." Atlas paused and swallowed thickly. "Abuse, as do you. So, I'm agreeing because I want to help. And largely because I love you and they're my family and I really like sharing a room with Ro." 

She leaned against him as she sat forward on the sofa. "Alright?" John asked, rubbing her arm firmly with her thumb.

"I'm just tired." Atlas said quietly before rubbing her nose against him when it itched. "Really, really tired." 

"Rosie needs to go to bed soon too. Do you want to come up with your dad and me? We normally give Rosie a bedtime story." John said as Atlas decided that sounded quite good and stood up, walking to the stairs and going up. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK helped Atlas make up her bed in Rosie's room and transfer a handful of things across into the yellow room whilst John and Rosie selected the book for the evening. Now, standing on her mattress Atlas waited for Sherlock to get a pillow for her pillow case.

"Think fast." Sherlock said as he came back into the room, throwing the pillow at her. Only she didn't catch it and stood frowning at it with a crinkled nose.

"I'm tired." Atlas explained before she picked it up, stuffed it into a pillow case and flopped down onto the bed. 

"You will be." John said as he came around and sat down on Atlas' mattress, back leaning against the side of Rosie's bed. Rosie came over with Jeff and nestled into John's side. Catching on, Sherlock sat down and leaned against John, shuffling when he realised Atlas didn't know where to sit. Atlas slotted into the gap between the men and leaned her head on John's shoulder. John tucked an arm round Rosie who, bored of her position, climbed into John's lap with an _oof._

"What story is it tonight then Rosie?" Sherlock asked as he leaned over to look at what was in John's hands.

"This one!" She squealed holding up 'The Hobbit' by J.R.R Tolkien as Sherlock smiled. "Papa and At are always talking about it." 

"You shouldn't be too scared of it. None of them are real and it's quite funny too." Atlas said smiling before resting her head against Sherlock's shoulder. 

John began the book for Rosie who listened intently to the story. She giggled when they described Bilbo, the picture of a short man with large feet and chestnut curls. Sherlock took over reading for a while as he was the best at doing the voices of all the dwarves. They journeyed through Gandalf and the dwarves recking Bilbo's house, sang 'Blunt The Knives' in an out of tune melody before settling back into the book.

"Sherlock." John said quietly as he watched his partner read the book excitedly. 

"Hold on, I'm just getting to the good part." Sherlock said smiling to himself as he opened his mouth to speak.

"They won't hear it Sherlock." John smirked, waiting for the other man to look up from the book. When he did, his face fell before brightening into a colourful smile. There, before him, his children slept, hugged up against John after Sherlock took more control of the reading. Sherlock gave a quiet laugh before leaning over Atlas to gently peck John. 

"Our little girls." Sherlock whispered against John's cheek before pecking it lightly.

"Yes." John said quietly. "Our little girls." Gently getting to his feet, he picked up Rosie off John's lap and lay her down in bed. 

John gently stirred Atlas who warmed up.

"Has Bilbo left yet?" Atlas asked John as she wrapped an arm around him.

"No." John chuckled. "You both fell asleep." 

"Oh." Atlas said before quietly standing up before flopping back down across John's legs onto the mattress.

"Are you still okay?" John asked quietly as he put a gentle hand out to her.

"Yeah." Atlas sighed as her dad came back to sit down. "It's just shit, that's all." 

"Do you want a hug?" Sherlock asked before he opened his arms, his hands offered out. Atlas rolled her eyes, took his hands and pulled herself up. Hugging him tightly and itching her nose against the soft fabric shoulder, she sighed.

"As a GP I know now that until you have another seizure, the doctor's won't refer you anywhere." John said. "But I think after the next one, if it happens, which probability says it will, we need to get an appointment." Atlas sighed as she looked up at him. "There's chance that something has developed or that something else has happened so we'll check it, yeah?" 

"Okay." Atlas sighed. "I think it's probably the same."

"Medication." Sherlock said frowning. "They'll probably up your medication now that your older. You won't have seen a doctor in a while, have you?"

"No." Atlas sighed. "No, I haven't." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE next morning the group chat filled with messages:

_**Xerxes sent attachment:**_   
**_Plane Crash_** __

_Recovery vehicles are still making journeys in United Arab Emirates between the dubai and the site of the plane crash. Yesterday afternoon, the black box was recovered from flight 357089, London Gatwick to Dubai. At this moment in time, there are no survivors and there is no prediction for there to be._

_**Atlas: That's not her flight.**_

_**May: besides, we'd have known ages ago.** _

_**Xerxes: im sorry guys.** _

_**Xerxes added Hale to group.** _

_**Hale: It was Aba's plane.** _

_**Atlas: How'd you know?** _

_**Sammy: I'm sorry. She's dead. She changed flight to an earlier one, the one at 8am. The flight that went down.** _

_**Atlas: how do you know?** _

_**Hale: her mum told us because me Sammy and Xerxes went over to drop something of Aba's off before she left and she said that they were leaving early the next morning.** _

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN opened his lunchbox and frowned. Inside, was a perfectly wrapped brown bread sandwich which was filled with lettuce, mayonnaise and haloumi. Next to it, a strawberry yogurt with a spoon perfectly sandwiched between the specially sought out tub of mixed fruit that had been thoughtfully covered in a sprinkling of lemon juice. 

This was _not_ John's lunch.

He picked up the piece of paper in the bottom and inspected it. An equation that Sherlock must have snuck in for Atlas - a way to help her keep calm if she was feeling anxious. The box was packed just the way she liked it to be, everything in it's place and he supposed that he would just have to deal with it.

Then there was Thomas Aduba who had just died. A fellow colleague and his daughter - who also happened to be Atlas' friend Abayomi - had passed away in a airline crash. One of Atlas' friends had just died and he found it worrying that she just got up and went back to normal. As if the news reports online and in the papers and on social media weren't real. Then again, Atlas had been through enough hardship, pain, death and struggle to not crumble under immense pressure. But he still worried. 

Of course he did.

He just hoped his little girl would be okay. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS looked in her schoolbag and frowned. She hadn't packed her lunch. Gently, Sammy nudged her and she looked up with wide eyes.

"Hey, aside from the big obvious thing, what's up?" Sammy asked looking at her with those forest green eyes. 

"I don't have my lunch." Atlas said looking at her bag.

"That's alright we can go-"

"Sammy, I don't have my lunch, I don't have any money with me and I don't have my equations." Atlas sighed before closing up her bag.

"I'll buy it for you, yeah?" Sammy asked looking st her.

"Sammy." Atlas said warningly, unwilling to let her friend buy her lunch. 

"No, come on." Sammy said taking her hand and leading her to the door of the canteen. This was a big deal for her, having to enter the canteen. She didn't even like walking through when there were a handful of people there, let alone more. Too much to read, too much to see, too much to know. Her hand went clammy and Sammy tightened his grip as they entered. "You start to feel unwell and we leave, okay?" 

"O-okay." Atlas stuttered as they began to walk through the canteen. People shoved and pushed as Atlas clasped her hand against his and breathed in and out. She could see hundreds of people with hundreds of lives and she carried them like bricks for the wall on her back. When eventually they reached the queue Atlas saw the three teachers tables, where a handful were sat, quietly munching on their food. 

The queue was long and despite Atlas' anxiety building up like a fire exposed to petroleum, she continued to stand there. Her knees wobbled and she held Sammy's hand tighter. 

"You still okay?" Sammy asked as Atlas took out her phone to look at the clock. She noticed a text.

_**Papa: I must've picked your lunch up this morning. Sorry sweetheart. I've put money on your lunch card.**_

_**Atlas: It's okay. Thanks.** _

_**Papa: I might be stuck here a while. We've got a load of patients coming in with chemical burns, worried their linked to something bigger.** _

_**Atlas: Could be poison.** _

_**John: Got to go, be safe, love you.** _

_**Atlas: Love you too papa. 🤗** _

Atlas looked at Sammy.

"Sammy." Atlas said to him quietly as she looked around the room. She felt sick.

"Yeah?" Sammy asked, his head whipping around. His eyes spotting May, Xerxes and Hale who were making their way over to them.

"I don't feel too good." Atlas said quietly as they approached the ordering station.

"Can you manage or do we-" Sammy asked before watching his friend collapse in front of him. He caught her under the arms to a mass of gasps and worried exclamations. Lying her down she began to convulse, her eyes lolling back in her head and her phone smashing against the lino flooring.

"Someone get the school nurse!" Sammy shouted before noticing as Mr Fraggerty got up from the teachers table. Carefully, Sammy removed her school tie and pushed her limbs into the recovery position. Everything shook and Sammy was pulled back by a teacher to allow the school nurse in. Just then, Mr Gardner turned up to effectively disperse the canteen crowds and block off the hallways. The friends stayed.

"You've all had a hard day. Maybe you should all go home and get some rest." Mr Fraggerty said before looking over to the head teacher.

"I'll call all the parents." The head teacher said before disappearing whilst Atlas continued to uncontrably seize on the canteen floor. Sammy timed it on his watch as he looked from afar, feeling helpless. 

The seizure eventually stopped, not long after the crowds of school children were shuttled out of the section of canteen. Her eyes flickered open and Atlas' assessed the room her eyes locking on Sammy.

"Sammy." She croaked, the boy's head going up, eyes wet with unshed tears. 

"Im coming Atlas." Sammy promised, before the janitor holding him back let him through and he kneeled by her side. "They called your dad, he's coming by soon." 

"Okay." Atlas said quietly as the nurse guided her into a seated position. 

"Your welcome to come and sit in my office until your dad gets here." Mr Fraggerty said as Atlas was helped to her feet, Sammy coming to her side.

And all Atlas could think about was how she managed to break her new phone.

And that Abayomi was dead.


	28. Cloud Atlas is a Really Good Movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, i don't edit these.

"SHERLOCK Holmes." Atlas heard through the door that was slightly ajar and she felt tears threatening again in relief. The familiar squeak of his posh shoes before the flounce of him into the room. Sammy had already left along with everyone else and now she was sitting with Mr Fraggerty in his office. 

"Hello?" Sherlock asked quietly, entering.

"Dad." Atlas cried before Sherlock bent down whilst exchanging a look with Mr Fraggerty. He put his hands over her knees and rubbed lightly with his thumbs.

"We'll go home." Sherlock said as Atlas looked at him. "And we'll watch Cloud Atlas or something?" Atlas nodded slightly before brushing her tears away. 

"Dad." Atlas sighed before he helped her to her feet and slung her bag around his shoulders, carrying it to the reception. There Atlas messily signed out before going outside and hopping into the land rover, heading home. Sitting in the front seat, she gave a small smile to Sherlock before he started it up. 

"Do you know why it happened?" Sherlock said as he pulled out of the drive.

"No." Atlas choked out, keeping her eyes dead forward, trying not to think about it all. "Sorry."

"Huh?" Sherlock asked, looking at her as they stopped at the red light. 

"You were on a case." Atlas said looking at him with sad eyes. "Sorry I pulled you off it." 

"No, no, don't apologise sweetheart." Sherlock said putting a hand on her knee. "It was boring anyway. And besides, an afternoon spent with my daughter will always be better than most things. Okay?" 

"Yeah." Atlas sighed. "I love you dad."

"Good job I love you too then." Sherlock smiled before pulling away and getting closer to home.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"DAD." Atlas said quietly as she came over to the sofa. "Don't be mad at me, but when I...ya know...I...uh... dropped my phone."

Sherlock looked up from where he was sitting, reading out the back of the DVD. "Did it..."

"Yeah." Atlas said quietly as she offered it out on a shaky hand. "I can't even switch it on." She stayed standing until Sherlock looked at it, before putting it to one side. 

"We'll buy you a new one. A better one." Sherlock sighed before Atlas sat at his side and deflated. "Okay? I'm not mad because I'm not allowed to be."

"Do you know when papa gets home?" Atlas asked, eyeing him up and down before leaning against him.

"Still have a chemical problem. It'll probably be a late one again." Sherlock sighed, missing his fiance in that moment more than usual.

"Okay. When do we have to pick Rosie up?" Atlas asked looking at him with big eyes.

"We'll make our way over to pick her up in an hour." Sherlock smiled as he rubbed Atlas' hair with his hand. 

"Aggh." Atlas said, reeling back, looking up at her dad. Her face was screwed up in pain and Sherlock looked at her. 

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked, turning to look at her properly. 

"I don't know, I think I've cut my...my head." Atlas said, putting a hand to the side of her head, near her hairline. 

"Ouch." Sherlock said as he peeled back her hair to look at the cut across her head. "That's going to sting..." Sherlock got up and raked around in the cupboard for some plasters and gauze tape, collecting some antiseptic wipes while he was at it. "I'm not as good as papa...but it needs looking at." He sat back down and laughed when Atlas handed him her glasses to help him see it better.

"You need to see the opticians too dad." Atlas smirked before exacerbating an _ahhh_ as he ran a wipe over it. 

"Tell me about it. Papa already has me booked in." Sherlock laughed as he wiped it again and Atlas clenched her eyes shut. "I'll get him to look at it this evening if he's not back too late. Okay?" 

"Yeah." Atlas said as Sherlock gently placed a plaster over it.

"John will have the right stuff for it with him. Or at least, he'll know what to use." Sherlock sighed before holding her head with his hands. He pulled her forehead to his lips and he kissed it, before his chin was rested on the top of her head.

"You smell nice." Atlas said into his neck. "My Sherlock. My dad." 

"Your dad, forever and always." Sherlock said.

"No matter what." Atlas finished, the old saying being reborn again between them.

And from the landing, Jo overheard the conversation and she just smiled to herself.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN ran a hand over his face as he entered the house at midnight. Sighing, he toed off his shoes and hung up his coat, dropping his bag in the lobby. As he entered the living room he saw Sherlock, bustling around the kitchen preparing a meal of tortellini for him in pyjamas. Just as John approached the breakfast bar, Sherlock swirled around and made up a bowl of tortellini with sauce and swiped infront of John. 

"Love." John said before Sherlock just forced a fork into his hand and stared at him.

"Eat." Sherlock insisted as John spooned some into his mouth. 

"Oh Sherlock. This is why I'm going to marry you." John said round a mouthful of pasta before he reached out a hand and clasped it in Sherlock's. 

"How was it?" Sherlock asked as he leaned forward on the breakfast bar and kissed John's cheek as he paused from the pasta.

"It was a nightmare. All these people who were popping up and we had several ambulances too coming in to pick people up and they thought it was a chemical bomb or weapon and it was mayhem." John said before growing tired. "Anyway, I'll explain more tomorrow...Is that Atlas' phone?" He said spotting her phone lying on the cabinet above the dishwasher with a smashed up screen. 

"Yeah." Sherlock sighed looking back at it. 

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" John asked as he looked up at Sherlock again.

"I was going to text you but then Atlas told me not to because you were having such a shit day and it all got out of hand." Sherlock sighed, looking at John. Patiently, the older man waited for Sherlock to continue. "She had a seizure."

"What?!" John exclaimed. "Is she okay?" He asked with worry lines scrolling across his face.

"Besides a smashed phone and a gash on her forehead, I think she's okay." Sherlock said. "Then again, she kept asking when you'd be home. I think she wanted to see you." 

"I'll check in on her when I finish up here. I'll pop in and give Rosie a kiss too." John laughed before he ate some more. "Other than that, how was your day?"

"Had a case this morning that was absolutely boring and then I got the phone call to pick Atlas up so we watched Cloud Atlas all afternoon." Sherlock sighed before he offered John a smile.

"It's a really good movie." Atlas said from the open doorway, John and Sherlock looking over to her. Rosie was hiding behind her legs before running out towards John.

"Papa, papa, papa! Your home!" Rosie exclaimed running towards John with arms outstretched. He put down his fork and swiveled on his seat as Rosie came to hug his legs. 

"Hello my darling." John said as he stroked her hair before Sherlock came around and lifted her onto John's lap. 

"Was it okay?" Atlas asked John as she approached him.

"Yeah, work was okay. But I hear you weren't." John said with a sad smile as Atlas approached him again after stopping. 

"It wasn't so bad." Atlas said. "I'd probably have conked sooner if it weren't for your texts. " She hugged him tightly before hopping onto the breakfast bar stool next to him. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"WHY don't we just do it?" Sherlock huffed as he flopped into bed next to John who had just shut his eyes.

"Sherlock, it's late, I've had a really busy day and I don't have a donkey's arse about what your saying." John said opening one eye as Sherlock shut off the side light. "It's already tomorrow."

"Yes, yes I know. But do you want to just do it. Go for it like tomorrow or the day after or on the weekend or something like that?" Sherlock asked looking over to where he could just see John's outline.

"What are you-"

"Our wedding. I want us to marry, sooner rather than later." Sherlock said. "We keep putting it off so why don't we just do it tomorrow, take the girls out of school and nursery for the day and go to the registry office."

"They can't take us on such short notice." John sighed, running a hand over his face.

"I can ask Mycroft or offer our service for free to someone in the leading department." Sherlock said wriggling for warmth under the blanket before attaching to John like a leech in water. 

"Okay." John said into Sherlock's neck. "We pay for witnesses and we do it." 

"Really?" Sherlock exclaimed, pulling back to look at the darkened face of his partner.

"God, I want to marry you as soon as possible. We shouldn't have put it off. We can have the party at the weekend and we can look for rings on Wednesday because the jewellers that we both like is open and God Sherlock, I am so in love with you, I could cry. I'm not going to, but I could." John laughed against Sherlock's neck.

"Let's do it." 

"Let's."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm weirded.


	29. Smile Painted Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Incredibly short cause I needed the next chapter.

"YOU can go back to bed." John said getting up the morning to be faced with a tired eyed teenager with messy hair. 

"What?" Atlas asked, her nose crinkling as she looked at him, her tie not on right and her blazer only over one shoulder. Her eyebrows furrowed when she saw John still in his pyjamas. "What are you talking about papa?" 

"Your not going to school today." John said looking at Atlas, Atlas only continuing to look at me. "Are you going to deduce or?"

"Dad and I have a rule not to deduce family." Atlas frowned. "That and I'm too tired." 

"Well, we're taking you and Rosie to the Registry Office this afternoon." John said before Atlas' eyes went wide and she looked at him.

Shs smirked. "Finally." 

"Yes finally, that's what your dad was saying all of last night." John huffed before Atlas slowly walked over and slipped her arms around his waist.

"Thank you papa. For making dad happy again." Atlas smiled against him.

"Always. Now, I need to ask you something. I can get you a GP appointment or, because I am one, I can refer you to an epilepsy specialist who will look into whether it's epilepsy or just non-epileptic seizures. I know that that's where a GP would be heading you for." John said before she pulled away and looked at him.

"Okay." Atlas said. "Im assuming dad has to come." 

"I can come aswell. I'm not your GP remember-"

"Your my dad." Atlas smiled before leaning back into him. 

"Forever and always."

"No matter what."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"THAT'S because dad has the better sense of style." Atlas smirked as she sat at a table in Angelo's, awaiting some much anticipated gnocchi. Sherlock and John were officially married and in fashion they were not sticking to traditional marital rules. There may be sex tonight, but for now, it was dinner in their favourite restaurant with their daughters. 

"Yeah!" Rosie squealed from beside Atlas, kicking her legs against the seat. Within Angelo's, you could get little booster seats - similar to those you can utilise when you visit some cinema's - to help them reach the table. Rosie's was bright yellow and had dinosaurs on it that looked like Jeff who was sitting on the table by her orange juice. 

"So come on then." John laughed as he looked over to Rosie then Atlas. "What do I look like?" 

"An old man." Sherlock piped in from beside him before linking fingers with him on the table. 

"I'm not that old." John pouted, humour threatening in his voice.

"Debatable." Atlas smirked before John, reached a hand under the table and tickled her knee. "Cruelty to Atlas Watson-Holmes alert! Cruelty to Atlas Watson-Holmes alert!" The table fell into easy laughter as Angelo appeared with their orders.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SO, husband..." Sherlock began, bouncing onto his elbow, looking down to John. 

"Yes, husband?" John giggled as he looked up at him.

"Shall we buy the rings tomorrow?" Sherlock asked kissing John lightly before finally dipping to kiss his cheek. 

"Yes." John said before Sherlock lay with his cheek over John's chest. 

"Okay. I love you." 

"I love you."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK glanced down at his hand, where his ring was glinting under the sun. His fingers were linked in John's as they sat on white, metal chairs next to a white metal table. Around them, people milled about sharing laughter and smiles. 

There was Leanne who had brought Sammy along, sitting by Greg. Molly and Andrew in conversation with Mike Stamford whilst Eurus showed Rosie how to paint out a picture of the new tree house that had been built just a week earlier. Other family members were around as Jo began to get along with Timothy and Wanda. Warmth spread through the group as the sun began to beat down on them and they smiled, Sherlock looking over to his husband.

"I love you." Sherlock whispered to John, who looked back at him and smiled. Smiled thsy goofy smile that he always wore.

"I know you do. I love you too." John smiled back before he looked over to where Rosie was painting. It looked to be coming along quite nicely and it appeared that where Rosie coloured the block colour, Eurus then painted in the details in a unique style. 

"Yes, yes like that." Eurus praised as Rosie sloshed a purple streak behind the treehouse with pink and yellow. It appeared that the treehouse was shining in all sorts of colours as figures of soldiers, knights, princesses and Hobbits were drawn on in tiny illustration. "Very good." 

"Aunty Eurus?" Rosie asked, with the biggest blue eyes.

"Yes Rosamund?" Eurus asked, looking down to Rosie sweetly.

"I need to get something." Rosie whispered. "From the treehouse."

"Okay, go on then." Eurus said before Rosie began to approach the treehouse.

Only, the ladder was still inside the treehouse after Atlas had been up the previous day. Rosie scowled before looking over to where Atlas was lying in the hammock with Sammy lying in the other direction. Foot to face. 

"At! At! At!" Rosie said going over to Atlas before putting her arms on the hammock.

"Yeah Ro?" Atlas said her head popping up to look at her.

"You left the ladder in the treehouse!" Rosie exclaimed before Atlas sighed. She liked a challenge when climbing in and a challenge when climbing out and sometimes she forgot that Rosie also used the treehouse.

"Sorry Ro." Atlas apologised before hopping out of the hammock, Sammy having to catch himself on his hands and clamber out. 

"Can you get it?" Rosie asked as Atlas looked at her. 

"Of course I can." Atlas said before she re-tied the lace of her right yellow high top, removed her royal blue corduroy blazer till she was left in her yellow turtleneck and green tartan trousers. 

"Okay." Atlas said as she took a few steps away and Sammy cleared the path. This was how she normally got in, at least when neither of her dads were watching. Attention of surrounding party members was caught as she jumped twice before running at full pelt, vaulted up the tree, grabbed a branch before swinging her legs up, ran across, jumped to another branch, grabbed the one above the entrance to the treehouse and swung her legs into the treehouse and landed. It wasn't very high up but it was high enough up that she had to take a run up. Atlas, then grabbed the ladder and pushed it out, making sure to latch it properly on the entrance. 

"Why are you so cool?" Sammy asked as he followed Rosie up the folding ladder. It resembled a loft ladder as an oppose to a rope ladder, for it to be more sturdy. 

"I don't know." Atlas asked before she made her way down again without the ladder. Jumping from the last branch, she landed like spiderman before looking up to see everyone looking at her. "What? I don't like taking the easy route. It's boring. And _obvious."_

"Far too obvious." Sammy smirked before they made their way back over to the hammock and clambered in.

"Do you ever worry about her?" Leanne asked as she came over to sit by the newly-weds. 

"Constantly." Sherlock smirked. 

"You get used to it." John smirked before he looked over to where Atlas was getting out of the hammock again. Once out she sprinted over to Sherlock and John engulfing them in a hug.

"Apologies." Atlas laughed before she sprinted back, jumped into the hammock and picked up her book. Sammy picking up the same titled book as they continued to read alongside each other. 

And John exchanged a warm smile with his husband.

That evening, they waltzed to Atlas' solo violin as moonlight streamed through the sky lights onto the landing. The side light cast a warm glow across the sitting area where Rosie sat with some colouring pencils and doodled on a drawing. Both men took their turns in each part, to lead as they waltzed through their new home with their new family and their new love. 

Smile painted faces.


	30. An Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short.

"YOU don't have to go." John said as he stood opposite Sherlock in the airport. Rosie held up to his side and Atlas tucked under his other arm. 

"I do." Sherlock sighed, a duffel bag hanging over his shoulder as an announcement came over the loud speaker. His flight was about to leave. "I promise, I'll come home. He kissed the girls each on their foreheads before kissing John. "I'll come home."

"Bye." Rosie said, tears watering in her eyes as she looked at her dad. 

"Please come home this time dad. Please." Atlas whispered before she just looked at him. He frowned, kissed all of their cheeks again and went off to board his plane, throwing a last minute wave over his shoulder before disappearing. 

"I want to go home." Rosie said into John's neck as he put her down so she could hold his hand and Atlas' hand. 

"We need to do quite a bit of shopping first Rosie." John said as Rosie pouted before Atlas added.

"We'll pick up some sprinkles and then we'll show papa how to make unicorn cupcakes." Atlas said as she continued walking along. 

"Can we papa? Please?" Rosie asked, swinging on his hand as they made their way out of the airport and out the big front doors. What worried John most was that the airport was small. And then he was moreso worried that the flight was ordered in by Mycroft. It had to be something high profile. It had to be.

"Alright then." John sighed as they approached the land rover and hopped in, not before John had fastened Rosie into her carseat however. 

"Thank you pa." Atlas chirped as she sat in the front seat and looked out the window.

"For what?" John huffed. "You say thank you an awful lot."

"Yes, because it's true. I can never say thank you enough to you, dad or Rosie. I just can't. So thank you." Atlas smiled.

"Is this about you and the society again?" John laughed as he recalled the previous day.

_"Dr Watson-Holmes?" A ginger girl asked at the door. John immediately recognised her from the society._

_"Yes?" John asked before spotting a dark haired boy making his way down the path behind her. He signed something to the ginger girl before another girl followed on behind him. She was darker in skin tone but still wore a similar dark hair colour._

_"May we come in?" The dark skinned girl asked, her hair being tucked behind one ear._

_"Let them in." A voice said from behind John as Sherlock appeared at the door. "She's round the back with Sammy in the treehouse."_

_"Sherlock." John said as he watched the three teenagers walk through his house, out the backdoor before they climbed into the treehouse._

"You let them in." Atlas smiled as they pulled into the Tesco car park. "And the society was reborn."

"That sounds like something out of Doctor Who." John smiled as he pulled into a child car parking spot. Helping Rosie out Atlas got a trolley as they entered the shop, and she began pushing it around. Rosie walked along near them, her little feet refusing to step on the joins in the cream coloured tiles. 

The trolley began to fill with an array of nice food that was essential to the recipes that John and Atlas liked to cook. There were prawns, bean shoots, mint and fresh chillis. Soy sauce, tomato sauce, kale, spinach, lentils. John was right, they did need rather a lot of shopping. They picked up the sprinkles and the right ingredients for the cupcakes amongst a whole load of other things. Chargers and cleaning chemicals for the experiments that Atlas said she had to do. 

Atlas and John had found themselves cooking with everyone in the family recently. A few days before Sherlock has left to run a case in an unnamed country, John had gone up to the Highlands to cremate his father and now the ashes sat in his Aunt Isla's house just outside of Inverness. They sat next to John's Uncle Archie, who was his father's brother, ready to be spread together. However, the spreading of the ashes was going to be later in the year and, pending dates, John and Sherlock made plans to make it part of a Scottish holiday together with their children. Not only functional as a holiday but as an introduction of John's family to his children and husband.

Nearing the checkout, Atlas went through to fill up the bags as Rosie and John loaded up the conveyor. Atlas then began to pack so fast that the person working at the till had to work incredibly fast to get everything through. Atlas still had time I between to spare. 

"Do you have a Tesco club card?" The man at the checkout asked before John produced it on the car keys. "That'll be £156.78 please." The man said before John forwned. Tesco was forever an expensive shop. John put his card and frowned as it didn't take it. "Give it a wee wipe." The man at the checkout smiled. John did so before pushing it in, only for his card to be declined again. 

"I'm really sorry." John frowned as he felt himself blush.

"Papa." Atlas said.

"Not now." 

"Papa, I have enough money. Let me buy it." Atlas said before she walked forward, had her card accepted and proceeded to pay the full sum. It confused John however as for him and Sherlock only gave her ten pounds a week. So how on earth did she manage to by over one hundred pounds worth of shopping?

Loading up the car, John didn't question it before they hopped in and headed home. They made rainbow unicorn sparkle cupcakes and drew pictures of rainbow sparkly unicorns. They ate their fill with a nice pasta bake and John had a little bit of wine. Video called Sherlock that evening, he seemed alright but tired and refused to disclose his whereabouts and Rosie went to bed for 7.

"How'd you manage to pay?" John asked as he looked up from his book, Atlas looking up from her own.

"Oh, you know, money." Atlas sighed as she looked back to her book.

"But you buy things all the time." John said exasperatedly. "Have you done something?"

"What?!" Atlas exclaimed, putting her book down. "No papa! I haven't!" 

"Alright, alright." John said, looking at her pointedly with a frown. "Where has it come from?" 

"Cases with Greg." Atlas covered smoothly, or she thought smoothly before she saw John's cogs working away in his brain.

"That doesn't make enough. He doesn't pay you the normal rate and you haven't taken any of his cases in months." John frowned. 

_Shit. Atlas was going to have to tell him about the inheritance._

"Just leave it." Atlas said as she picked up her book again. 

"Atlas." 

"You wouldn't understand."

"Why? Why wouldn't I understand?"

"Because your not like me! Your a married into Holmes! Your not a born one! I know that doesn't matter, hell your my dad and I love you, but that means I have _things_ from years ago that I can't explain!" Atlas said before she looked at him.

"Married Holmes?" John scoffed. "A married Holmes? What's that supposed to mean?" 

"You know what it means." Atlas threw at him. John knew what it meant. It meant that he didn't have the gift, it meant that he wasn't entitled to things and it meant that he was an outsider.

"That I'm an outsider." 

"Exactly." Atlas sneeered before she picked up her book and waltzed up the stairs only hesitating a look back once, to see John looking into space. He had to understand. She thought he would, but he didn't. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

LATER that evening after much sulking Atlas made her way along the hallway to her dad and papa's room. Knocking lightly, she entered as John peered at her over his glasses. With his gaze, Atlas walked over to the bed and shuffled onto it, tucking her legs underneath her before looking directly at John who sighed.

"Let me finish my page and then we'll chat, okay?" John asked as Atlas gave a little nod to John. A few moments later and John took off his glasses and placed them on his bedside table along with his book. They looked at each other as they figured out who was going to start.

"I'm sorry." Atlas started as she looked at him. "I'm a teenager." 

"Very true." John laughed before Atlas shuffled a little closer but remained individual.

"I have an inheritance." Atlas paused and watched as her words sunk in. "Me and Rosie, we both have an inheritance. Dad said not to talk about it, not to tell you, I mean. But your my pa. My other dad. I can't not tell you about it. So like, it consists of various furniture and quite a lot of money." Her face drops, an uncomfortable pause of silence. "Just don't get mad Papa. Please." She took a deep breath and looked at John again, who seemed to be willing her to go on. "I get more than Rosie. A lot more...because I'm a blood relation." John sighed. "I don't expect you to say anything. Just don't get mad at dad either. He doesn't have a say in where the items actually go." Pause as she looked up and John looked mildly pissed off. She shook. " Grandma and Grandad's things are split between the two of us. But my great grandmother Olive's, my great grandfather George, my great grandmother Josie and my great grandfather William. All their things go to me. Money, paintings, instruments. All because I'm a blood relation." She gave a short laugh at that and brushed away a single tear. "But Rosie's his daughter just as much as I am. As much as I hope I am just as much of a daughter to you. And you know, I hate it. I hate having all this secret, family wealth. I hate it." Another pause of contemplation. "'Spose dad didn't want to hurt your feelings.

"You know, it's funny, because some days I don't deserve to be a Watson. All the things I do, all the things I say, all the people I make upse tand all the lives I take away. And then some days, I don't deserve to be a Holmes because of all the things I don't do, I don't say, all the people I don't make upset and all the lives I don't save. Then I just become Ida Atlas Elizabeth. Full stop. And that's when I realise that my great grandparents may have had old names and been lords and ladies, but I'm not. I don't deserve Ida and Elizabeth. So then I just become Atlas. But there we are again. Back at the unsusal tradition in the Holmes family of going by the second name. I don't deserve to have an unusual name, no less, a name that pertains to a greek titan. So then what do I become? Nothing. I become nothing." Silence as she looks over to the headboard. "I am nothing."

John shuffles uncomfortably as Atlas felt her body being dragged into an awkward hug."You deserve to have Atlas because nobody else can ever carry that name the way you do. You deserve Ida and Elizabeth because your great grandparents are who they are and you can't choose them. As for your last name. You are not Holmes or Watson because you are a Watson-Holmes. The Holmes in you is smart enough to make Einstein and Turing quake in their graves. The Watson in you makes H. H. Holmes and any person who has ever committed a crime quake in their graves." There was a pause as John pulled out of the hug and put his hands either side of Atlas' face. "Okay?"

Atlas nodded as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand and sniffed.

"Your not related to H. H. Holmes are you?"

Atlas shook her head laughing. "No, I don't believe we are Papa. At least, I don't think we are. Imagine dad's his several time great grandson or something. That would be funny. A mass murderer and fighters of mass murderer's in the same family."

"That would be quite funny I suppose, yes." John laughed before he hugged her again a gentle hand to the side of her face. 

"My John. My dad." Atlas sniffled as he rubbed her hair with his thumb.

"Forever and always." John whispered into her hair. 

"No matter what." Atlas laughed. "Did dad say it to you?" 

"He did." John laughed too before he kissed her hair.


	31. Your My Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Scenes of vomit, abscence seizures, verge of panic attack and sensory overload.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly emotional and cute.

SMOOTH air brushed past John's face as he sat on a picnic bench with a takeaway from Books & Beans with his sister and mother. He was helping them house search or rather flat search. Unfortunately, he realised too late that Atlas' help on the matter would make it go faster and he had already promised that she could attend a society meeting tonight. Chuckling under his breath he remembered back to when she asked if she could attend it. 

_"Papa?" Atlas had asked, waltzing into the living room around lunchtime on a Sunday, two days after Sherlock had flown out._

_"Yes sweetheart?" John had then asked, his eyes looking up at her from where he was typing at something on his laptop while watching the news. Feet on coffee table._

_"The society want to meet up." Atlas had said, shuffling from one foot to another._

_"Okay. When?" John had asked before realising he didn't have a clue who or even what she was on about. "What's the society?"_

_"Oh papa." Atlas had moaned before she flopped onto the sofa next to him, her phone in hand. "The gang." John must have still looked blank because Atlas then added, "You know, me, Hale, Xerxes, Sammy and May."_

_"Ohh." John said before he stroked her hair. "If Sammy drives you, I don't see why not."_

_"Thank you." Atlas had laughed before she texted something out. "We're going to do a few things for Abayomi. They couldn't retrieve her body they said. So, just the five of us are going to head over to the Hill which was one of her favourite hang out spots and look across the city. Then we were going to go to the top of the building that her mum used to work in and put up a little memorial for them all."_

_"Are you okay?" John has asked with furrowed brows._

_"These things happen. And for a change, it didn't happen because of me."_

John felt the chuckle die in his throat. It hadn't been as funny as he remembered.

Grief was more raw than a chuckle and simple explanation.

But Atlas had already seen enough.

The death of her friend didn't so much hurt as shock.

What hurt the most, was that Aba was just another corpse in the list.

And it _frightened_ Atlas.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS looked at her friends around her. Together they chatted about politics and history and the philosophical makeup of their beings. They spoke about the anomally of green eyes and ginger hair - prompted by May - and spoke of their future aspirations. 

Xerxes wanted to be a politician, to save the country from possible damnation and listen to the young people. He wanted to be a representative for deaf people and create better services for the hard of hearing, deaf, blind and all round disabilities. In addition, he was keen to make learning British Sign Langauge key to early stages learning in primary and secondary schools. He wanted children like him to be understood the way he never was.

May however, wanted to be a painter. She wanted to paint the world the way she saw it, wanted to detail it in colour and optimism. Wanted to highlight the beauty and the sunshine in our lives that we take for granted. The world was beautiful and May knew it.

Hale, new to the group but as significant to it's workings as everyone else, desired to be a scientist or doctor. Hence, not being in any of the original groups classes. She was smart and was keen on doing right by people. In fact, she specifically wanted to research cancer on be a geneticist. She knew the hurt that diseases and illness brought.

Sammy wanted to be a musician. To fill the ears of near people with joy. Guitar was his main instrument but he could also play drums, the trumpet and the saxophone. He could sing too and already had with his best friend in the whole wide world Atlas. Atlas was, in many ways, his favourite person and he loved her. Loved her like a sister, like a piece of himself. They were insperable and he knew that they always would be.

And as for Atlas? She was destined to pick up herself a career being a consulting detective just like her father. Her keen eye and stance on sentiment made her the perfect candidate and she knew it. However, she didn't want her life to be completely filled with the constant wear and tear and adrenaline. She, like Sammy, desired to create music. Violin and piano were her main loves but through the free resources at school she was fast picking up the ukulele and the cello aswell. The latter she was getting lessons with Mycroft for after he revealed that he too could play the cello and had only done so infront of himself. In fact, he was the main reason Atlas even picked it up in the first place. She'd snuck in to hear him playing and he'd promised to show her. She planned on showing her skills to her dads someday soon, but she was still trying to persuade Mycroft into a cello duet with her. He wasn't really up for it. 

"Right. Shall we head to our favourite spot with this stuff?" Sammy translated for Xerxes as he gathered some bags of things to put at their private memorial for Aba. 

"Yeah." Atlas replied as she got up and pulled May by her hand until she was on her feet. 

"She was one of the best." Hale said as the group of five began to make their way over to Sammy and May's cars. Sammy and Atlas hopped in his with Hale, whilst May and Xerxes drove in May's car. They arrived at the spot a few moments later before walking through the trees to _the_ spot. _Abayomi's favourite place._

"Gee." Atlas said as they arrived the emotion suddenly catching them all off guard. Xerxes laid out the pencils that he repeatedly pinched off Abayomi and always _forgot_ to give back. Hale placed a candle and lit it before placing a framed picture of the society on the scarf. Sammy stepped forward and squatted down before placing a notepad that Abayomi had doodled in. Then, Atlas stepped forward and dropped down. She placed a paintbrush and wiped at the tears falling on her cheeks. Stepping back, Sammy looped an arm around her shoulder as May took her turn, placing a multi-picture picture frame. 

"Bloody hell. This is alot." Atlas said as she put her hands to her knees and hung her head, taking a deep breath. 

"You alright?" Sammy asked as he put a hand to her back. 

"Yeah." Atlas sighed as she straightened up. "Just, there's a lot going on at the moment. My dad's on a mission and it's more dangerous than we've told my papa and then we're going to the spreading of the ashes of my papa's dad and sometimes it just...sentiment burns."

"You've had Mrs Pertwee on your back, your papa's dad shot himself, Harry and Jo staying with you and now this?" Sammy added.

"Atlas, you've had fits and seizures." Xerxes said in his poor speaking voice while signing. "You've had ill health."

"You've spread the ashes of your mother who died because your dad had to shoot her to stop you dying. You got adopted, you found your family, moved house." May also added.

"Atlas. You killed someone." Sammy whispered, despite it being no secret to anyone else. "You need a break." 

"No. No." Atlas declined before she looked around her friends. "Jesus. I'm sorry guys." Atlas laughed. "Look at me, I'm a mess." 

"Not a mess. Just broken." Xerxes said, signing but also speaking with his voice. 

"There's a party tommorow night." Hale said as she looked around them. "We could go. I think it's only small and it's a bunch of geeks I know from the school. Do you want to go?" 

"I mean yeah." May said. "It's a break."

"I'm not su-" Atlas tried to intervene.

"You can tell John your staying over at mine or something." Hale offered before she looked around them. "It'll be nice, non-alcoholic."

"Okay." Atlas said, coming around persuaded. Looking around them she felt uneasy and that bubbling came back in her stomach. Her papa was over with Jo and Harry looking at houses and Rosie had gone to spend the day with Molly and Andrew. Atlas, despite knowing she had to make the memorial, just wanted to go home. "Uhhh, I'm sorry guys, but I think I'm gonna cop out." 

"I'll come with you." Sammy said from beside her, the leaves shuffling at his feet.

"Are you okay?" Xerxes asked and Atlas looked at him. 

"Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know, but I know that I just want to go home, curl up in a ball and go to sleep. But I can't go home so I'll have to go to Mycroft's." Atlas sighed as she looked at Sammy with those eyes. The eyes that sammy knew was a means of secret speech that only the best friends knew. Atlas was simply saying: _please._

"We'll go home together." Sammy said before they made their way down to the car and hopped in. It was a short way from the memorial site but Atlas was glad of being in the comforf of something she knew.

"Your not going to, you know?" Sammy asked, as Atlas just looked at him.

"No." Atlas replied before she looked at him. "Sammy?" 

"Yeah?" He asked as he started up his car.

"Your my person." Atlas said as she looked at Sammy with a kind smile.

"Your my person too." Sammy smiled in return as he pulled out. "Mycroft. He's the one who lives with your aunt, right?"

"Yeah. They won't mind if you stay, I mean if you want to, which you know that your always welcome at my house." Atlas smiled as they pulled out onto the main road through London. 

"I know." Sammy said quietly as he continued along the road. "You know, your dad's are always so kind to me. And after having just lost mine, I feel like I really needed someone to look up to that was male. Your dads, they did that for me." 

"I know." Atlas smiled as she looked out the window at the passing traffic. "They like you. If you ever need to asking them something guy based, honestly, just ask them. And I mean, it helps that your all gay." Atlas gave a little chuckle at that and so did Sammy.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎• 

ATLAS saw the party before she heard it. Staggering teens made their way past them as they walked to the house. Foolishly, they'd all assumed it was alcohol and drug free but now, as they approached the house, they noted that it was far from it. 

Stepping forward, they were welcomed in by a very drunk posh boy who beckoned them in. The stench of sweaty bodies hit Atlas first along with the smell of sick. Then the DJ must have started because the whole house began to shake under the weight of the music. 

Maybe her papa had been right.

_"Papa, tommorow night, is it okay if I go to a party with the society?" Atlas asked John who was sat on the sofa on the music landing and he'd been enjoying listening to her piano playing._

_"A party?" John had asked, his head snapping up fast._

_"Yeah." Atlas asked._

_"Do you know the people who are going to be there?" John had then asked, looking at Atlas from his position, she slouched on the piano stool._

_"No, but Hale does and they're just some people from school." Atlas tried but saw John's eyes glint._

_"Atlas, I'm going to have to say no. Your dad's not home and you know about the anxiety of it all and I just...I don't think it would be very safe." John frowned as he looked at her and Atlas just looked at him._

_She'd then asked Sammy if she could say she was going to his and he said yes._

Atlas' shoulder was jostled by a girl going past and Atlas was suddenly gifted a waft of strong smelling perfume. To her right she heard someone throw up, the music blared and some lights flickered infront of her. Staying by the door she looked around and saw that none of the grouping were there and that they had all disappeared. All of them. 

Alone she looked around, anxiety pooling in her stomach. The smells, the sights, the sounds, the taste of alcohol in the air and the touch of people made her want to throw up. It hadn't even been ten minutes and she already knew it was a mistake. A guy to her right came over and tried to engage in friendly conversation, tried to touch her arm but she pulled it away. She found herself in the kitchen. 

Alcohol. Drugs in the corner. The smell.

And Atlas bolted out the backdoor and threw up onto the grass. People watched, people were looking at her as she dry heaved before pulling back to the side of the house. Who was she? She was supposed to be able to handle things like this. She thought she could do it. She thought she could be _normal._ She tho-

"Hey, hey Atlas. Look at me. Just breathe. Just breathe." A familiar voice said as she felt cold hands place either side of her face. "I think you just had a seizure." The voice was kind, the voice was-

"Sammy?" She found herself asking as she opened her eyes to reveal the green eyed boy. 

"Yes, it's Sammy." He said as he plonked himself down beside her. "I'm sorry, I should've kept an eye on you."

"Was it a petit or a grand?" Atlas asked Sammy, looking at him. Her head was thumping and her senses were still on their way to overload. 

"Petit." Sammy frowned. "I think I'm gonna drive you home."

"No," Atlas frowned as she looked at Sammy wide eyed. "Mycroft's, papa will be mad with me."

"Atlas," Sammy tried, but stopped as his best friend's hands just snaked over her ears and she screwed her eyes shut. "Okay, okay." He said softly as he put his hand to her back, the damp grass beneath him soaking his trousers. "Come on," Sammy said as he got to his feet, and helped Atlas to her feet. "I dropped my car off a few streets over, we'll go down here, turn right and then in approximately two hundred yards we'll turn right again. We'll get in my car because I haven't touched the alcohol or the drugs and we'll drive the approximately nine minute drive to Mycroft's house." Sammy said as he began leading Atlas away from the house, she gave a quiet sob. Understanding of people, Sammy took the initiative to tell Atlas everything they were doing, as a way to affectively calm her down. 

When at the car Sammy helped Atlas in and started up the car. Her eyes were screwed shut and he put a hand over her knee. 

"Remember Atlas, just breathe."


	32. Not Going Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's short. Sorry.

"WHO in God's name knocks on my door at this-" Mycroft huffed as he walked to his door. He had been enjoying playing chess with Eurus when a knock on the door had prompted them to stop. He was on his guard - as, at this time of night, it truly could be anyone - and opened the door with caution. "Atlas?" He saw his niece standing on the step to his house with her best friend and he beckoned the pair inside.

Eurus, now curious, began to make her way into the entrance hall and frowned when she saw Atlas.

"That party must have been a belter." Eurus laughed before she was shot a look from Mycroft who was guiding Atlas into his kitchen where he had comfortable seating. Leading her to the sofa he sat her down, cleaned a space on the coffee table and sat. 

"Look at me." Mycroft instructed as he took her hands into his. She continued to sob. "Eurus, could you kill the lights. Samuel, come over here." 

"Is she okay?" Sammy then asked very quietly as he joined Mycroft on the table. 

"Whisper." Mycroft added before he squeezed Atlas' hands. 

"Mycroft." Atlas whispered.

"Yes, my dear Ida?" 

"I don't feel well." Atlas said back.

"I know." Mycroft whispered back as he gently, in a very non-Mycroft way, kissed her forehead and offered a hug. "Breathe, it's okay. Just breathe." There was a pause. "I think we need to call John."

"No." Atlas sobbed as she retracted from Mycroft's offer, tucked her legs beneath her, put her hands back over her ears and began to rock. "He'll be mad at me. He'll be so mad at me. No. Please." 

Mycroft looked to Eurus who pulled out her phone and pulled up John's number. Two rings before an answer.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN was reading his book quite happily when his phone rang. The sound made him jump. Jo and Harry had already gone to bed and so had Rosie so, with a confused then urgent frown he answered. Expecting it to be Sherlock.

"John?" Eurus asked into the phone, John's face becoming laced in surprise as he heard his sister-in-law.

"Eurus?" John asked, confused.

"Yeah, yeah it's me." Eurus laughed before John gave a little frown as it died away. "You need to come."

"Why, what's wrong?" 

"Atlas has been to a party and Sammy came back here with her." Eurus explained. "She won't stop crying, John."

"Stupid. Stupid. I told her not to go." John said into the phone before he hung up and got to his feet, slung on his shoes and hopped into the fabia. Making his way down the road he was begining to boil. Atlas had gone against his word and had gone and done something so stupid. He warned her, he told her she shouldn't go. He was so mad. How stupid? He was going to tell her off, make his point incredibly clear. Why had she gone against his word? Was it not good enough for her? 

Pulling into Mycroft's driveway he saw Sammy's car parked up and he hopped out, making his way to the door. However, when he entered he was surprised to see the lights off. And then he heard her cries. He was so angry and then he wasn't. Then, all of a sudden, he no longer held the capacity to be mad at her. 

Walking through he looked into the kitchen and saw Atlas, all tucked up under and round herself and John felt so ashamed that he had been mad at her. He made a steady movement over as Mycroft and Sammy got up and out the way. Atlas continued to sob and shake and screw her eyes shut. 

"Hey, hey, hey." John said as he came over and squatted down by her legs. "Okay. Breathe. Atlas, just breathe." _Christ,_ John thought, _she's having a sensory overload._ "Love, breathe. It's okay." Taking her wrist, John's fingers felt a pulse before taking her hand to cover his chest. Her heart rate was far too fast for his liking and he knew that in the past, situations like these had ended in seizures. John was prepared to do anything to prevent that happening. As John took some deep breaths, Atlas' hand moved and he knew she could feel it. "That's it. I know it hurts and it feels like you can't but it's okay. It's okay." 

"I can't do it." Atlas gasped and she looked at John with a saddness in her eyes he don't think he'd ever seen before.

"You can. You can." John persuaded as she shakily attempted to breathe, only to enter a coughing fit. "That' it. Slow it down." John moved to his knees and wrapped an arm around to place on her back as she shook. "It's okay."

"Pa." Atlas whimpered and John had to resist an urge to just hold her.

"There we go. That's better. Keep it slow." John praised as Atlas' breathing began to slow and she managed a small quirk of the lips.

Suddenly, she leaned forward and put her arms around John's shoulder. Putting her chin on his shoulder, she sniffed a little and John rubbed at her back. "I'm here."

"Papa." Atlas sobbed. 

"Hey, what happened?" John asked as Atlas pulled away and he pushed some hair off her forehead. She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Okay. We'll go home and we'll talk about it there. Jo and Harry are moving out soon. Have you had anything to eat?" 

"No." Atlas blubbered.

"I thought as much. We'll make you some soup yeah?" John smiled as Atlas looked at him with a little smile, before she looked up at Sammy.

"I'm sorry Sam." Atlas frowned, as he looked at her.

"Hey, Atlas. Don't worry about it." Sammy said looking at her. "I care more about my person." 

"I care about my person more too." Atlas laughed before she moved from giving a John a hug to giving Sammy hug.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"DO you want to come and lie on your dad's side?" John asked as Atlas put her temple against the cool table. She had just finished some soup and her head was bouncing. 

"I don't want to get in the way, I can sleep in Ro-"

"Atlas. The least you deserve is a proper bed tonight." John smiled. "That and I can keep an eye on you. Your not looking too great."

"Yeah, I threw up." Atlas frowned as John frowned at her, with his hand on her back. 

"Was it the noise?"

"It was everything. The noise of people, the smell of vomit and I could see and I couldn't help deduce and I-" Atlas stopped herself and sighed.

"Okay." John soothed as he rubbed her back and he pulled his chair out. Getting to his feet he went upstairs and Atlas followed on. 

Later, once John had finished in the bathroom he came into the bedroom to see Atlas curled up on the bed. She had her eyes shut and she was lying on her side facing the other side of the bed. In her hand she held Whisper as John slipped under the covers and switched off the side light. Her blue eyes opened and she stared at him intensely.

"Dad will come home papa." Atlas whispered before John rolled onto his side and put his hand to her hair. Gently, he brushed it out of her face and ran his fingers through her curls. 

"Go to sleep sweetheart." John whispered as he stroked her hair.

"Papa?" Atlas asked.

"Yeah?" John replied, her eyes being lit by the street lights.

"If dad dies, you will look after me...right?" Atlas asked hazily, as if drunk. 

"'Course. Of course I will." John whispered. "I wouldn't leave you behind silly." 

"Okay. Just checking." 

"Okay then. Go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES MY PEOPLE! I QUOTED GREY'S ANATOMY.


	33. A Day Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its only really a filler. But it has an important aspect in it.

HARRY and Jo began moving out the next day. Atlas and Rosie helped them move what little personal items they had into the landrover. Once they were finished, Jo and Harry said their goodbyes to the girls before hopping into the car, with John at the driving seat and the back seats - bar one - down. Then, standing on the doorstep of their house, they waited for Sammy, who had promised he would walk Redbeard with Atlas and Rosie. 

Sammy pulled up ten minutes later with a smile and a curt wave. Getting out he went straight for Atlas and gave her the tightest hug imaginable. 

"Alright?" He asked before Atlas nodded, looking at him. 

"Sammy!" Rosie then squealed as she saw him and he lifted her up and held her.

"How are you Rosie?" Sammy asked as he looked at her as she sucked her bottom lip.

"I'm good!" Rosie squealed. "How are you?"

"Good," Rosie smiled before Sammy dropped her down onto her feet and she ran back to the house.

"The boot in my car isn't very big." Sammy warned as Rosie let Redbeard out the front door before she unhooked something. 

"Do you guys wanna head out of the city? I don't know, make a day of it? Go and explore somewhere. We can pick up sandwiches at the shop." Atlas suggested before looking over to Sammy who was smiling.

"That sounds good." Sammy said. "It's only half eight so we have the whole day." 

"I'll text papa so he knows where we're at." Atlas smiled before beckoning Sammy into the house while she picked up a few things that she thought they might need. Some water bottles and made sure they all had waterproofs before they made their way out to Sammy's car. With a small car boot Atlas clipped Redbeard into a harness and got his car seat attachment before beckoning for him to jump onto a backseat. Plugging him in her sat and licked the window before Sammy laughed as he placed Rosie's car seat in and sorted it out. He helped her in, clicked her seat belt in and handed over Jeff, who she took eagerly.

"Right, are we ready?" Sammy asked, looking to Atlas over the top of his car. Atlas nodded before hopping in beside Sammy and Sammy pulled off the drive.

_**Atlas: Me, Sammy, Ro and Red are all going out for an adventure. We should be home in good time but I don't know where we're going yet.**_

_**Papa: Okay, see you later. Be safe.** _

_**Atlas: We always are.** _

_**Papa: I know. I'm heading over to the surgery for some patients this afternoon.** _

_**Atlas: okay.** _

_**Atlas: What's for tea?** _

_**Papa: Not sure yet. But I think I'll feed Sammy too to say thank you.** _

_**Atlas: okay papa.** _

_**Papa: Have fun.** _

_**Papa: Just out of curiosity, what's Sammy's little sister called?** _

_**Atlas: Georgia. Georgia Walters. Sammy picked up the last name when his mum remarried.** _

_****_

"Who're you texting?" Sammy asked as they pulled onto the M4. 

"My papa." Atlas replied as she looked out the window at the cars infront. 

"I feel bad not mentioning this earlier." Sammy said cautiously after a few quiet moments had passed.

"Okay..." Atlas said warily as Sammy pulled her out of her thoughts about how on earth they had actually managed to fit all four of them into a three door 1 litre car. 

"Yeah, so a few weeks ago, my mum took Georgia to the doctors." Sammy sighed as they overtook some cars. "And they decided to test her for various things and the results came back negative. But today, she's going to the doctor's to find out the results of her most recent test..." Sammy let out a hot breath. "A test for lukemia."

"It won't be lukemia Sam. You know it in your heart and I do too." Atlas sighed as they pulled into a fuel station. "I'll do it." 

"No, Atlas it's my-" But it was too late and Atlas was already making her way over to the plastic pump.

"Sammy?" Rosie asked from behind him and he swivelled in her seat.

"Yes Rosie?" Sammy asked as he looked at her.

"Will you be my brother?" 

"Your brother?" 

"Yes. That's what I said." Rosie said in a tone so like her dad's. She sucked her bottom lip with her top row of teeth and looked at him expectantly.

"I can if you want me to be." Sammy replied, giving a small smile. "If you need me to be."

"Yes." Rosie replied before she looked back out the window as Atlas paid at the pump and hopped back in to the passenger seat.

"I'll pay you back." Sammy said as he pulled out of the fuel stop and back onto the main road.

"No you bloody won't." Atlas laughed before they continued along.

"Right or left?" Sammy asked Rosie, looking in the rear view mirror at her. She gave a kick against her seat before looking to Redbeard.

"Right!" Rosie screamed before Sammy giggled and took a right off towards a stretch of countryside.

After passing miles of flat, inhabitated land, they opened for a while before plunging into row upon row of oak and pine woodland. Sammy smiled before pulling into a forestry car park.

"Right. We should give Redbeard a wander." Sammy smiled. 

If he could be part of any other family, he'd be part of this one. 

But then he supposed they already were his family. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN sighed as he helped his mum and his sister move their belongings into a small house that they had secured immediately. It was given to them as part of a charity of "Abuse Survivors", despite both John and Sherlock saying they wouldn't mind buying them a small cottage somewhere so long that they can give them some money back. Yet, John was thankful they had found an immediate solution.

Sighing, he turned on the ignition for the car and waved as he said goodbye to his family and went off home. Rosie and Atlas had already said they were out this afternoon with Sammy so he comfortably made his way to the clinic. 

Upon arrival, he signed in, had a few congratulations from colleagues who must have finally found out that he had married Sherlock and continued into his office. Flopping into his office chair, he removed his blazer and pulled out his phone. Finding Sherlock's number and his finger hovered over call, before finally landing. There was a total of four rings and just when John was sure Sherlock wasn't going to pick up, he did.

He sat stunned. He hadn't been able to get in contact with his husband since he had left days ago. 

"Sherlock." John sighed as he placed a hand over his mouth and listened.

"John." He replied hoarsely.

"Christ. Why haven't you been picking up?" John asked, feeling a silent anger building up. 

"It's been pretty hectic." Sherlock replied matter-of-factly before there was a pause of uncomfortable silence. "I love you John." 

"Oh Sherlock." John said round the lump that was growing in his throat. "I love you too. Are you alright? Has everything been alright?" 

"Yes." Sherlock replied shortly into the phone. "I'll see you soon. Send my love to Rosie and Atlas. I miss them. I miss you. I miss Redbeard."

"Sherlock your only just on the phone." 

"I need to go. I'm sorry..."

"Sherl-" And then the familiar drone of a disconnected line appeared and the call was no more. John put his palms to his eyes and rubbed before setting his phone down and sighing.   
Logging into the computer, he pulled up the notes on his next patient and all the previous appointments. And that's when he sighed. He knew his patient's last name was Walters and was coming in for results from a lukemia test. But it was Sammy's little sister and the results weren't good news.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"HELLO." John smiled when he saw Leanne Walters walk into his GP room. He tried to look bright. He tried to smile. Standing, he shook Leanne's hand with a smile. "It's been a little while since I last saw you."

"Mummy." Georgia asked and now John looked down. Long blonde curls and brown eyes and she remarkably resembled her mother. As did Sammy. "How do you know Doctor Watson?"

"You know Atlas."

"Sammy's bestie?" Georgia asked, looking up at her mother.

"Yes, Sammy's bestie." Leanne replied. "This is one of Atlas' dads."

"Oh." Georgia said before hopping onto a chair and Leanne sat next to her. John sat down in his office chair and spun around to pull up the official results.

"So, your results have come back..." John paused. "And on here it says that your previous doctor was Doctor Aduba."

"Yes." Leanne replied before John sighed thinking about the man who had passed away on that frightful flight that took away Abayomi Aduba aswell. 

"Okay. So, like I said the results have come in." John wheeled his chair over to opposite Georgia who was so small with big eyes. "I'm glad you came in today because the results came in just yesterday." Leanne's breath hitched. "I'm sorry, but it is cancer."

And then an eerie silence descended over the room. 

"And there's more bad news. The lukemia is stage 3." John sighed as he looked at Georgia. "And because of what type and how aggressive it is behaving in Georgia's system and how fast it has spread..."

"No, no, no." Leanne began to cry.

"It is probably terminal. If you want to try to fight it, the best hospital is Manchester and I can get you a spot there in two days." 

"No, no, no." Leanne said as Georgia looked around the room. 

"I'm so sorry." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

DRIVING home, Atlas looked into the backseat where Rosie had fallen asleep before looking again out the window. Redbeard had also lain down, as much as he could on his harness, and gone to sleep. 

"They've gone to sleep." Atlas said.

"Jeff included?" Sammy asked, prompting a smirk from Atlas.

"Jeff included." Atlas smirked as they approached Rosewood Cottage. Sighing, she frowned as she saw Leanne's car parked on the drive with the Land rover and the Fabia. And she frowned some more.

Sammy hopped out with a smile on his face and pulled a sleeping Rosie out. She lolled against him as Atlas came around and took her and Sammy collected Redbeard.

"If they're back so soon it must be good news, mustn't it? And your pa is here..."

"Sammy." Atlas warned as she noted that the car was parked haphazardly and that their was an unusual amount of objects in the boot. She knew they'd been placed there in a hurry.

"I mean it's got to be good." Sammy said as he began to fast pace his way to the door while Atlas hung back. Her hands were placed firmly on Rosie's back. Just as he approached the door he stopped and looked back. "It's got to be good right?"

And Atlas just frowned and shook her head.


	34. MIA

"I KNOW your going to roll your eyes at this. But are you okay, love?" John asked as he walked into the kitchen quite late to see Atlas typing away on her laptop. He walked over and shut it before slipping into the seat next to her.

"Papa!" Atlas shouted before reeling and looking at him. 

"No more work for tonight. Anyway, a letter came through the door." John said and Atlas sighed and tried to get up.

"It's probably bad news." She huffed as she rose to stand but John placed a gentle hand on her arm. 

"It's not." John said as Atlas looked on the front cover and when realsation hit her face she couldn't quite open it fast enough. "I think that the process took longer between you and me than it did between Sherlock and Rosie. Mycroft did try to get it sorted quicker but we have a date."

"It took longer because im me." Atlas laughed before she looked up at him. 

"Because your you...and through no fault of your own, you have been served a pretty big handful of rubbish." John sighed as he looked at her. 

"Like PTSD, anxiety, depression and seizures. Sounds about right." Atlas laughed but it died in her throat and she quickly looked back down at the page. "We're at the final step...And then your officially my dad." There was a thoughtful pause. "That's pretty cool you know."

"Yeah?" John chuckled as he rested a temple against his fist.

"Hell yeah." Atlas laughed before looking at him. "For someone who has shuffled about homes, been shot and all that. It's pretty awesome to have my dad back _and_ get a little sister and another dad aswell. It just sucks about Georgia and Abayomi and her dad and just..." 

"I'm proud of you." John smiled as he put his other hand to her back, Atlas giving an audible eye roll. "I am. Okay then, off to bed." John sighed as Atlas slipped off the stool and waltzed upstairs. Just as she was about to disappear out of his view he remembered. 

"Oh Atlas!" He shouted and the he was greeted with her head popping over the banister. "Mycroft and Co. are coming by tommorow morning."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS walked into the living room the next morning after paying a quick visit to the library, to see Mycroft sitting in one of the sofa chairs with Eurus, Rosie, John, Timothy and Wanda all dotted about elsewhere. She then also noticed Mrs Hudson and she walked in slowly before standing by Mycroft.

"Is that everyone?" Mycroft sighed before he looked around the room and frowned. There were several sighs before Mycroft got to his feet and began to pace, every pair of eyes barring Rosie's, tracked his movements. 

"I have assembled you together today for several reasons," Mycroft smiled before it dropped and he looked around the room, his eyes flitting to the ceiling. "Firstly, it has come to my attention that my dear niece, Ida, might appreciate a family gathering considering the most recent circumstances. The loss of a friend is never an easy one. And there is sure to have been an air of great saddness shrouding the house for a while following John Senior's death. I have also heard about Georgia Walters and from my understanding Samuel Walters is to be staying within this household for a few weeks starting tommorow morning." Mycroft stopped, gestured with his hands, opened his mouth and then shut it again. "Secondly, it has been a while since we have gathered altogether and as my brother and sister have repeatedly told me, sentiment is found in the winning side." He paced a few moments more before he stopped and looked to the awaiting faces. "And finally, Sherlock has, unfortunately, dropped off our radar." 

Silence descended upon them all before Mycroft spoke again. "His mission, should you call it that, did have an element of predictability within in it and we _did_ predict he may go missing, however, we didn't anticipate for this to occur in the region he was or potentially _is_ within."

"So, what does this mean?" John asked, his face dropped into worry.

"It means..." Atlas said walking over to Mycroft. "That if Sherlock was going to go missing, he would have done so by now. And I'm assuming, that he didn't register with the phone number that Mycroft no doubt set up."

"Bloody hell." John swore from where he sat. "So what is he? Officially?" 

"Missing In Action. MIA. And should he never return...that's the way it will stay. Unless he's predicted otherwise." Mycroft sighed and for a brief moment in his eyes, there were tears.

"What the hell?!" John shouted, getting to his feet, Rosie wriggling against Mrs Hudson. "Are you? Are you serious? I can't believe you sent him out there. You knew there was a risk!" John was shouting now.

"It was a small risk." Atlas added.

"It doesn't matter! Me and Sherlock had agreed that there would be no more of this!" John was standing opposite Mycroft. "No more of this threat!"

"There isn't a threat! And stop shouting at Mycroft." Atlas said as she stood next to her uncle defensively. "It's not his fault. Eurus, Mycroft, Sherlock and I specifically calculated the risk of each spot. This is an unpredictability and we did not expect it."

"We?" John asked. "Oh, this is just great! And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Because it was too much risk! You would go with him." Atlas replied, looking at him fiercely.

"So you know where he is?" John asked, getting closer to Atlas.

"No, no, no." Atlas frowned. "I didn't- I didn't say that." 

"But you know? The three of you," John looked to Eurus, "You know?"

"Yes." Eurus swallowed.

"Then tell me. Tell me where my husband is." John shouted, looking back at Atlas. Timothy and Wanda had now stood and were looking at the three just as expectantly. 

"No." Atlas said bitterly. "No."

"Jesus christ." John sighed. "I get a pack of lies from my daughter and my family. Brilliant! Just bloody brilliant." There was a quiet pause. 

"There not lies, we just never said anyth-" Atlas began.

"Don't be smart." John quipped before he took a few steps back and looked at Atlas. Still boiling, he made his way towards the double doors and outside, whilst Atlas darted off to the lobby and she could be heard going up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Wanda and Mrs Hudson swiftly made their way outside, whilst Rosie was occupied with Eurus and the dog. Mycroft frowned and headed up to find Atlas, pleasantly surprised to find his father following him.

"Breathe." Atlas whispered to herself as she paced her bedroom and flicked her hands up and down. "Just breathe. It's not as if smart is all you are. Breathe Atlas." She broke off mid sentence into a sob. "Breathe. Stop thinking about the statistics. Breathe. I can't breathe." 

"Atlas?" Mycroft asked as he entered the room to see his niece trying not to breakdown in her bedroom. Her eyes were starting to spill over and her glasses looked long discarded on her bed. She didn't acknowledge her uncle and only continued to pace. "Atlas, you need to take a seat." Mycroft attempted to take her by the wrists and lead her to the end of her bed, but she shook him off.

"Atlas." Another voice said as it entered. "You need to listen to me." It was Timothy and he was taking her shoulders and taking her to her bed. "You need to breathe. Your having a panic attack and you need to breathe." 

"I-" Atlas sobbed as Mycroft, surprisingly kneeled by her feet. 

"Breathe through it." Mycroft soothed, placing a hand to her knee and suddenly, Atlas wasn't Atlas, but a young Sherlock. All dressed up smartly in a blazer and shirt and it was now Mycroft realised that Atlas was - in so many ways - a carbon copy of her father, right down to the way she dealt with situations. He remembered one time that Sherlock had been at school and come home. The younger brother had headed straight for his room and locked himself away, not even appearing for tea. Mycroft, being the sly person he was, crafted a perfect explanation for why he had to venture into Sherlock's room. On the bed, Sherlock was having a panic attack and for the life of him Mycroft couldn't figure out why. And he felt a bit like that now and related so much and then came to the stifling realsiation that Sherlock's anxiety had never left him. And neither had his depression. 

And then Mycroft realised that, within his shallow, insufferable being, he had sent his brother on a mission that was only going to worsen his mental health. Mycroft then vowed to never place another person in a situation like that without thoroughly checking mental and hospital medical records.

"Your okay." Timothy comforted as he sat next to her. "John didn't mean it. You _know_ he didn't."

"Everything hurts." Atlas sobbed. "Everything's going wrong."

"Hey, hey, hey," Mycroft soothed, rubbing her knee. "It's not. It's okay. Your dad will be alright. He'll come back."

"But he didn't come back the first time." Atlas sobbed before Timothy pulled her into a hug and rubbed her shoulder. He smelled like pine needles in winter and it instantly soothed Atlas. 

"He'll come back." Mycroft whispered. "Now, just keep breathing."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"JESUS." John sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He let out a shaky breath and sat on a bench. There, he shook and let out a quiet sob before he heard Mrs Hudson making her way over with Wanda. 

"It's alright dear." Mrs Hudson said approaching and reaching out a hand to John's shoulder, placing it gently. John then, took a sharp intake of breath and stood. Straightening himself out he removed his hands and looked up. "Come here." Mrs Hudson smiled as she opened her arms and allowed John to hug her. Wanda was crying too now, as she thought about her little boy lost somewhere.

"It'll be okay. He'll get found." Mrs Hudson said against John's ear. 

"I know. I know. I just...sorry...there's a lot of pressure at the moment." John sighed. "I shouldn't have shouted at Atlas, should I?" 

"Probably not." Wanda replied quite quickly. "But we all do it. We all shout at our children when we probably shouldn't."

John gave a small laugh to that. "But this is Atlas. I don't know...if Sherlock's dead...I don't know if I can handle her."

"I know what you mean. Sherlock was a wild one too when he was younger, but you manage them right and they become the best people possible. She is, I'll admit, a little more challenging than Sherlock can be sometimes." John gave a little laugh at the use of present tense. "But she is a wonderful person."

"And we'll be here to help you if something happens." Mrs Hudson added. "Alright?"

"Yeah," John said with a light laugh. "Thank you."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN had his book open infront of him while Rosie lay against his chest with her legs either side of his thighs. She was tucked in neatly, with her ear resting over his heart, her eyes shut. "War & Peace", John was discovering, was a very good book and he scolded himself for not having tried it earlier. Rosie gave a snore and he gave a quiet giggle as she shifted on his lap to move Jeff closer to herself. 

On the other side of the door, Atlas was calming herself in preparation to step into the room. Her blue blanket was wrapped around her shoulders and she knew that she probably looked awful. Opening the door, she slipped in, John looking up once before down to his book. She walked around and climbed under the covers, lying on her side, right near the edge. The duvet was pulled tightly up, over her shoulders so that only her head was visible.

She gave a quiet sniff before shutting her eyes and seemingly falling asleep. Only, a few moments later, when she shuffled and sniffed again, John looked over to her. 

"Atlas." John said quietly, Atlas whipping to look over her shoulder like Sherlock had so many times before. "Can you take Rosie a moment whilst I lie down?"

"Uh yeah." Atlas said as she sat up and removed a sleeping Rosie from John's chest and held her sleeping form. 

"Okay." John said as Atlas put her back down against John who gave a little grin.  
"Nuh-uh." John said as Atlas attempted to pull away from where she was sat. "Come here." She lay near him with her nose tucked into his side.

"What is war like?" Atlas asked, looking up at John. He just sighed, Rosie still sleeping against his chest. Atlas nuzzled closer into his side before looking back up. "What? I just want to know."

"Atlas, I don't want to ta-"

"But-"

"Please, just drop it." He snapped, Atlas drawing away from his side a little bit.

There was a pause of silence. "Sorry." Atlas said quietly, John coming to the realisation that she didn't mean to offend him. Or hurt him. Neither her nor her father ever did. They never meant to, they almost always had the best interests in mind. He rubbed her arm and pulled her back against him.

"It is, to some, the best few months or years of their lives and for others the worst." John began, a hand gently on top of her head.

"What was it for you?" Atlas asked, with those blue eyes that could figure out what they were if she really wanted to. But no, no she was _asking_ him, she wanted to hear it _come_ from him.

"A bit of both I suppose. I am like your dad, an adrenaline junkie. Can't stop myself." John laughed, Atlas coming up to put a head against his shoulder, Rosie sleeping on. "I didn't have a family to come home to, so it didn't hurt as much to be away. I wasn't normally in direct line of fire, but believe me. I saw a lot of them die. Young men. Men with families. Men yet to have families." There was a pause. "Your not like, thinking of joining the army when you get old enough, are you?" John asked, alarm and concern edged in his voice.

"No." Atlas laughed. "No, think I'd have a problem with morals or getting given orders."

"Your so like your dad sometimes." John smirked as he thought about his husband. Where was he right now? Was he alive?

"What's the worst pain you've felt?" Atlas asked quietly, as if she was scared to ask the question.

"Not over there. The worst pain, was not over there." John said quietly, looking down to Rosie, then made eye contact with Atlas.

"What has?" She asked, looking up.

"Mary dying, that was pretty bad. That's up there. You in the coffin. That too." John said quietly.

"Me in the coffin?" Atlas asked.

"Yeah." John replied. "I've never told you, only your dad. But there was a room I went to before I found you. One with a deep hole filled with dirt, coffin near the bottom." John sighed. "You weren't in it. But...Mr Peterson led me to believe that your were. And indeed when I dug it up...yeah." He said a lump in his throat. Atlas continued to watch him intently. "There was a dead body, not yours..."

"Obviously." Atlas muttered, exchanging a look with John.

"Obviously." He repeated quietly. "And I was so sure that it was you." He swallowed thickly. "I was _so_ sure." Atlas put a reassuring hand on top of his, it resting lightly on Rosie's back.

"Attatchment is funny." Atlas smirked.

"Yep. Oh, by the way, your appointment at the hospital has moved to tomorrow morning. I've set Rosie up to go see Molly because she's available to look after her with Andrew. We'll pick Sammy up on our way home, I've already arranged it with Leanne and I left Sherlock a voicemail." John smiled.

"Oh, okay." Atlas sighed. "It's pretty rubbish. And part of me hopes its epilepsy and part of me wishes that it isn't." 

"I know. But whatever it is, we'll be here for you. And I'm speaking for Sherlock because he _will_ come home." John said quietly. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Atlas sighed before she rubbed her nose against his shoulder. "I just put snot on your t-shirt by accident..." Atlas giggled. "Sorry."

"It's alright." John smiled before turning to look down onto Rosie's head. 

"Papa?" Atlas asked again, looking up at him.

"Yeah?" John asked, his hand rubbing lightly on Rosie's back.

"If dad is dead and he doesn't come home. I'm going to start calling you dad instead of papa." Atlas said, clearly thinking aloud.

"Okay." John frowned before Atlas made herself comfortable and hummed.

A few moments later and they were all asleep with the side light on and heads full of very possible _what if's?_


	35. Where I Live

"WHAT a shambles." Atlas groaned as she made her way into the kitchen and plonked her belongings down on the workbench. John sighed, itched a patch below his eye and looked at her. She hopped onto the counter and looked back at him. "I wish we knew where dad is." 

"I do too." Rosie squealed from where she appeared from the seating area with Mycroft. 

"I'm sorry Mycroft." John said when the brother appeared. "I shouldn't have spoken to you, Eurus or Atlas like that yesterday. It wasn't fair and your just trying to keep Sherlock safe." 

"It's alright, John." Mycroft said as Rosie came to hug his leg.

"My?" Rosie asked looking up at him.

"Yes, Rosamund?" Mycroft asked, looking down and smiling as he put on his _only for the best nieces in the world_ face.

"Stay for tea?" Rosie asked with cute eyes and a wide smile. 

"If it's alright with papa." Mycroft said looking up to meet John's softened eyes. "And, Eurus is here too, she's outside painting another portrait of Redbeard or something." 

"Of course it's alright. Did you have a good lunch?" John smiled before Rosie squealed and hugged Mycroft's leg. 

"Yes." Rosie replied before she looked up at Mycroft. "My! My! My!" 

"How was your appointment Ida?" Mycroft asked, looking to his other niece who jumped off the counter and walked over. 

"Why do you call me Ida?" Atlas asked, looking at him.

"Because he knows it annoys you." John said. "Just tell him the truth about the appointment, _Ida."_ Atlas gave John a playful whack before looking at Mycroft.

"It's not epilepsy. It's what I've had the whole time." Atlas sighed before she looked at Mycroft. "It's stupid."

"Uh, it's not stupid." John remarked before looking at her. "It's not stupid." Placing a warm hand to her shoulder she nodded before continuing.

"Don't be ashamed of me. Part of the appointment enclosed a mental health thing too because the seizures I had before were caused by stressful situations." Atlas frowned. "Here it goes...I have anxiety...like...quite bad..."

"Yeah?" Mycroft stated plainly, as if it were positively obvious from the beginning.

"Your not?" Atlas asked with a furrowed brow before continuing. "Okay. Well, they confirmed the PTSD. They think it's just funny wiring or something. So they've started me on anti-anxiety pills to see if they will stop them or decrease them to just once or twice a month."

"Alright." Mycroft smiled before he took a few steps forward and did something that John never thought he'd see. He hugged Atlas, tightly, before letting go.

"Thank you for understanding, My." Atlas smiled before Mycroft smiled back at her, before farrowing his brows.

"Where's Sammy?" Mycroft frowned.

"Not coming till this evening. Got a few more things to figure out." Atlas supplied, looking at her uncle before over to John. Heading for their tea party, Mycroft and Rosie left Atlas and John. 

"Can I have a hug?" Atlas asked, looking up at John with those blue eyes. Spinning around to face her, John gave a weak smile.

"Course you can, sweetheart," John smiled as he opened out his arms and beckoned for her to get closer. Doing so he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair in a sweet gesture. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just tired and I have cramps because I'm on my period." Atlas frowned into John's chest.

"Do you need some Feminax for it?" John asked as he rubbed her back.

"I'll take in a while if I still need some. I don't really like taking medicine." Atlas sighed as John rubbed his hand over her back.

"I know. You and your dad are hopeless." John laughed. "If you need anything tell me." There was a pause as he sighed. "I'll even make up a hot water bottle." 

"Your the best." Atlas smirked.

"I know I am."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"HEY Sam." Atlas said as she opened the front door. Sammy had a duffel bag in one hand and another on the ofher hand. On his back was a large rucksack and he skulked in. His hair was messy and he looked _tired_ as he placed his belongings just in the door.

"Now," John said entering into the lobby. "I have been informed by Atlas I have to ask you. Would you like to sleep on a spare bed in Atlas' room? Or would you like the spare bedroom?"

"Company sounds nice. If that's okay with you? Your already doing so much for me." Sammy smiled, the twinkle in his eyes not there.

"It's not a problem. According to Rosie, your family now. Your welcome to whatever you need." John smiled as he took a duffel bag from Sammy then the other and began to ascend the stairs.

"My instruments are out in my car." Sammy said looking back to his little red car.

"Me and Ro can go get them. Go up and speak to my pa." Atlas smiled before calling Rosie and making her way to retrieve his trumpet, saxophone and guitar. Rosie took the trumpet and opened the doors and Atlas followed and they placed them in the music landing.

Meanwhile, Sammy had just entered Atlas' room and he smiled as he saw the spare bed that had been put up on a base that was elevated to the same height as Atlas'. The covers were neat and tidy and the bookcase that normally sat against that wall had been pushed to create the normally wide space at the end of Atlas' bed to the width of a person. The side table has been moved to the other side to be shared between Sammy and Atlas, whilst the chair was now on the other side. Next to Sammy's bed, the window seat was neatly made up and Sammy could see all of Atlas' bits and bobs gathered up. Her chest of drawers were where they always were, lined up on the side of the door. 

"I really am grateful." Sammy gave a weak smile as John looked over to him.

"I've seen a lot of cancer patients. And I've always wanted to do more for the family. It just so happens that I can this time." John smiled before walking over to Atlas' chest of drawers. "Atlas cleared out both the big and small top drawers." 

"She didn't have to." Sammy frowned before John just gave a smile and looked at him.

"She wanted to. You changed her life and you saved my daughter. So stop saying thank you. Now, I have an important question to ask you." John grinned, Sammy's green eyes sparkling lightly. The young boy nodded once. "How do you feel about pizza? In particular, homemade pizza."

"It's nice. Infact, if it's Atlas' recipe, it's _really_ nice." Sammy smiled.

"Not Atlas' recipe. But yes, it's that recipe. It's my aunt's recipe. Would you like to help me make it?" John asked as he looked over to Sammy.

"Sure." Sammy smiled, feeling at home in the older man's prescence. Sherlock and John had been like the dad's he didn't have.

"Okay. Mycroft and Eurus are over at the moment. Has Atlas told you?" John asked before noticing Sammy's blank expression. "About Sherlock?"

"No." Sammy said, instantly concerned. He was always concerned for other people more than himself. "What's happened?"

"Bless her. Sherlock's MIA." John sighed from the door as Sammy left the room and they continued down the hallway.

"I'm sorry." Sammy sighed as they made their way over the landing. "Atlas doesn't have a cello?"

"A cello? No." John laughed. "She doesn't play." 

"I do." Atlas said from where she was sat on the sofa with Mycroft. "I'm saving up to get one and a concert electro-acoustic ukulele." 

"You should have said, love." John said as he looked to where Rosie was colouring in with Eurus. Atlas got up and made her way over, stopping just short of them.

"I have been teaching her." Mycroft said from where he was sat next to Atlas.

"Hmmm." John smiled as he came over. "Tonight is homemade pizza." 

"Yay!" Rosie squeaked. "Jeff likes pizza."

"I know Jeff likes pizza." John smiled. 

"Sammy! Sammy!" Rosie squealed as she got to her feet and ran over to him. He squatted down to take her hug. "I'm sorry about your sister." 

"Thank you." Sammy smiled, looking at her. 

"Will she get better?" Rosie asked reaching out her hands to place them on his cheeks gently.

"If I'm really, really lucky. But probably not." Sammy frowned before Rosie leant in for another hug. 

"I like you. Your nice and you smell nice and not disgusting like boys do." Rosie laughed as Sammy smiled.

"Well that's good then isn't it?" Sammy smiled as Rosie put her hands into his curls. The rest of the family watched the exchange with new found curiosity. 

"Alright. Shall we go make the bases so they have time to rise?" John asked as he put a hand to Rosie's hair, causing her to look up. She gave a nod and Sammy rose to his feet. Once downstairs, they began to pull out the ingredients required to make their pizza bases. 

"If you and Sammy measure out the ingredients and then me and Rosie can mix it all together." John said to Atlas as Mycroft and Eurus came in. "And can you two do the cutting up of toppings. Have a look in the fridge."

"On it." Eurus smiled as she opened the fridge just as Sammy and Atlas started measuring out the ingredients.

"You should get the flour, legs." Atlas said to Sammy, who smirked before he walked over to a cupboard, pointed before opening when Atlas gave a nod. 

"Legs?" Sammy laughed as he measured it out to the scrawly handwriting recipe.

"Yeah, cause your so tall." Atlas laughed as she looked at Sammy, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and helped make the rest of the base.

No meal they had eaten, had ever been better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rubbish. This is rubbish. Don't @ me.


	36. The Lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a doctor so don't kill me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's quite long and probably doesn't stop in the best place.

SHERLOCK wasn't home a week later. 

Atlas hadn't cried but had had three seizures during the week that had led to another review appointment being scheduled sooner, and she was soon moved onto a new set of medication.

Sammy facetimed Georgia daily and watched as she gushed about the wonderful places she had been creating in her head and requested him to sing her a song.

And the world kept moving around the family, despite all four of them plus Sammy, wanting the world to just _stop._

Luckily for them, the man who commanded their planets, was coming home. It was slow. But Sherlock was coming _home._

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE evening light dappled across the bedroom as Sherlock sighed. There, on the bed, curled up tight on his side was John. In the moonlight, his silver hair shone as he slept peacefully. Slipping inside, Sherlock padded carefully into the room and shut the door with a soft click. A deep quiet sniff and suddenly Sherlock knew he was safe. Totally and completely safe. Infact, Sherlock often found it funny that people - including himself - were so comforted by the smell of another being to whom they were close to. Any of his family or close friends would probably have this effect but John.

Just _John._

His _John._

Sherlock gently placed his duffel bag on the floor before going into the hallway and along to the bathroom - he knew using their en suite would disturb John - before returning and slipping on his pyjamas. John still didn't stir.

Lifting the duvet he slid in and provoked small movements from John. 

Maybe he should have taken the small movements more seriously as for, within moments, Sherlock found himself pinned to the bed with a forearm pressed into his windpipe. He now realised the saying to "never wake a sleeping dog" should be, "never wake a sleeping soldier." Infact, come to mention it...

Sherlock brushed it away as pointless mind witter when the forearm against his neck loosened.

"Sherlock?" A voice asked in disbelief, Sherlock knew it was John. The bedside light was switched on and now Sherlock was faced with a very confused looking John. "Jesus christ."

"Sorry." Sherlock squeaked before John just launched his lips against his husbands. Smiling into the kiss he pulled away and looked at Sherlock. Staying like that a few moments, Sherlock was just about to suggest that John climb off of him when the older man spoke.

"It's alright love. Your home." John said, his throat closing up. "Your not Missing In Action. Your alive. Your here." His eyes spilled over helplessly in tears as he looked at his husband. His mouth contorted in an attempt to stop them but in the end he resolved to dropping his forehead onto Sherlock's shoulder and letting out a quiet sob. There was a deep breath as his body shuddered, his chest lying on top of Sherlock's.

"John?" Sherlock asked, putting a reassuring hand to his back and rubbing with his thumb. "It's okay." 

"I nearly lost you again."

"I know." Sherlock whispered before he sniffed against John's hair and inhaled the smell of strawberry shampoo. "I'm sorry."

"Christ. You have a beautiful heart Sherlock." John said through his tears before Sherlock scrunched his nose and looked at him. Sensing this, John sat up a bit and looked down at him. 

"But you can't see my heart. I think it's fully functioning though. At least I have no symptoms pertaining to that of an-" 

"Sherlock." John said furtively.

"Oh, is this another one of your sentimental things?" Sherlock asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes. And I'm going to force you to listen to me. You are the most human human I have ever met and you have the biggest heart." John laughed before Sherlock gave one of his proper smiles. One of those ones that lit up the darkest of rooms and the darkest of moments. That was contagious and only made John smile in return. 

Climbing off Sherlock, John arranged his pillows so that he sat up in bed slightly and Sherlock did the same. For a moment, they sat in silence before Sherlock turned over, looked at John and reached out his arm. John then slipped against it and lay facing his husband.

"I'll come with you next time." John swallowed as he looked at Sherlock.

"You can't, it's not safe. And someone needs to stay with our little girls." There was a long pause of contemplation as Sherlock sighed and looked at John unguarded. "I could take Atlas."

"Don't you bloody dare. I need her here. I need her safe." There was a pause for a deep breath. "I need you safe."

"I understand." 

"Do you Sherlock?" 

"You need me to be safe."

"No, it's more than that. I need you to be alive. _We_ need you to be alive." John paused. "Rosie missed you but really, what I should say, is that Atlas needs you to come home."

"Come home?" Sherlock asked, crinkling his nose.

"Yes. She needs to know your coming home." John said as he brushed a curl off Sherlock's forehead.

"Oh." Sherlock replied shortly. "You know if I could have looked after her I would, I would never have left her alone." 

"Shh, I know Sherlock." John smiled. "I know." 

"Speaking of our oldest, wise, daughter...How's she been?" Sherlock asked after he had regained his composure.

"Not good. She had three grand mal's this past week and I had to pressure the hospital for a sooner appointment and managed to get one."

"And?"

"It's not epillepsy Sherlock."

"Good."

"No. Not good." 

"Not good?"

"No. Your getting better at it. But it means that that little thing called sentiment is the cause." John looked like he was trying to piece together his next sentence. "Hard to control."

"Oh."

"Yeah." John sighed. "Jeez, these two weeks have been hard. Rosie's been a bit sulky and missed you. She had a meltdown the other day and..." John sighed again.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock frowned. 

"It's okay."

"I wish I'd been here to help arrange things with Sammy, to help with Atlas' appointment. I spent the whole time on my mission just wanting to be at home. I wanted to come home, I didn't want to be there. I wanted-" Sherlock stopped and looked at John. "I wanted...no, I needed...you." 

"Well, you're always lost without your blogger." John smiled as he kissed Sherlock lightly on the cheek then travelled to his lips.

"Your more than my blogger." Sherlock smiled. "Your more than my husband and more than my best friend, John. You are a piece of me. And you have been for the past ten years." Sherlock smiled, only to look up and see John give a weak, teary eyed smile. "Or is it eleven?" John laughed at that.

"I love you." John smirked before kissing his husband.  
"And you are a piece of me too."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS heard her dad _before_ she saw him. She heard him giggling away with Rosie and engaging in casual conversation with Sammy. She wanted to scream at him. Hit him, punch him but she kept her cool, walked into the living room, saw him and made a turn for the lab. She didn't want to speak to him yet and besides, it wasn't as if he had even noticed her walk in.

It wasn't until ten minutes later that Sherlock walked into the lab to see Atlas in goggles, lab coat, hair tied back and gloves on, dropping a pipette full of liquid into a solution. 

She'd grown over the past fortnight. And appeared to be fully engaged in whatever she was doing. So, Sherlock slipped into his lab gear and slowly and steadily sidled up next to her.

"Making?" He asked as Atlas rolled her eyes.

"Fixing. Overdid it with the acid. Trying to see what I can do to change it." Atlas frowned before she straightened up and looked at him. "How was it?"

"Good. No hello?" Sherlock asked with a glint of humour in his eyes.

"Hello." Atlas squeaked before she looked back down to her experiment.

"John told me about the seizures." Sherlock whispered softly as he bent down to Atlas' eye level and looked at what she was looking at.

"Yep." Atlas said back, popping the 'p'.

"Do you want to talk about them?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"One was at school, one was in the kitchen and I had one in the middle of the night because I had a nightmare about you." Atlas said. "Luckily the last one - the one in the middle of the night - I managed to have it in the bathroom and my fall made Sammy wake up, then get papa."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"I'm not. We managed...and besides, you were saving the world." 

"Mmm." Sherlock smiled before he looked at her. "Can I maybe have a hug?" 

"Your asking?" Atlas asked as she rose again to meet his straightened form. Sherlock nodded, opened his arms and beckoned for Atlas to enter. Doing so, he rubbed at her back and Atlas slipped her arms around him. "You came back."

"I came back." Sherlock smirked. "I came back for you, just as much as papa and Rosie." He pulled away and put his hands either side of her face. "I don't know where I would be today if you weren't in my life."

"Dead." Atlas smiled as she looked at him. "Probably dead, dad."

"Porbably." Sherlock laughed. "Very, very probable."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SAMMY, Rosie, John and Sherlock all found themselves in different places that afternoon. Sammy had a trumpet and saxophone lesson - from the same teacher, an hour of each - which took up two hours of his afternoon; Rosie and John were out at the park meeting up with Sophia Thorpe, one of Rosie's new friends; and Sherlock was busy working through paperwork that had finally caught up on him at New Scotland Yard. 

Atlas was therefore, alone. Contemplatively, she jumped from painting, to singing, to playing violin, to plaiting her hair (and failing) before finally settling on an experiment in the lab. Setting it up, she changed into her gear, gathered a notepad and pen and set to work outlining and detailing notes ready for a write up report. 

The lab was Atlas and Sherlock's thinking spot. The place where they weren't judged for jumping in their own heads and gladly following whatever rabbit hole or staircase they found. They were at peace.

Atlas began to think about Mary-Anne. How she hated herself for not being able to remember the kind person her mother was and how she could only remember the abuse and hurt. That one hit. That bloodied cloth in her mouth. The smell of sick as the alcohol seeped through her mothers veins. She couldn't think of any memory that didn't include her mother doing something that had frightened her. And she hated it.

After Mary-Anne, her thoughts began to shift to her time in care. She'd spent a lot of time thinking about this. _A lot of time._ And everytime it either ended up with her having to forgive her dad all over again or just needing to hug him. It really could be either. Swiftly, she jumped thought again.

This time, it was Mycroft. Good old, Uncle Mycroft. And she thought about his headaches that he had been cleverly hiding since the lodge - he'd had them then aswell. She hoped it wasn't serious. Mycroft was, to be frank, one of her favourite people. And it was an even bigger added bonus that Eurus was there too. A wonderful person contained in a tortured and troubled soul. But deep down, she was one of the most beautiful people Atlas had ever met. 

All of this, of course, was thanks to Wanda and Timothy really. They brought their children up to be who they are. To be themselves. To live a little. And to take chances and to love so much that your exterior has to be hard. To want to make a difference.

She thought about Rosie and Sammy next. Neither were blood relations but both were her siblings. Sammy, had been taken under the protective wing of her parents a while ago and Rosie had always been there. The added bonus was that she smelled like strawberry shampoo.

So did John. _Papa._ He smelled like strawberries and Atlas often found it comforting. He was one of the best dads ever.

So was Sherlock though. 

Everything was good in life, Atlas realised, everything was alright.

Well, she thought that for a long while as she paused with her pipette in her hand and moved the jug she was using for water, near to the corner of the table. She thought life was good till she felt that familiar feeling that started at the base of her skull and tingled it's way through her body. It was how she felt before she started to fall to the ground, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Everything was good until it wasn't.

Her body began to convulse on the floor, her form face down and the jug threatening to topple off the table at any moment. Of course, she didn't realise this though and began to his against the table leg.

The jug fell with a smash, right beside her head, shards flying in all directions. There was no reason for her fit right now but all that didn't matter as glass came to settle all over the lab floor. 

The seizure had lasted a long time. The glass had cut her head and when she came around she let out a quiet whimper. Falling forwards was not her normal forté, it was normally backwards. She shut her eyes again and tried not to cry but couldn't help it.

"Hello?" Atlas asked, throatily, checking to see if anyone was in the house - despite her deductions telling her that there was no-one. "Please. Don't let me be alone." Starting to sit up, she felt her body give up and she lay back down against the cool flooring. 

She heard her dad's footsteps a few minutes later. Hearing him call out and ask where she was she tried to muster some strength but found she had none. He called again.

"Atlas?" Sherlock had shouted and then she heard him use the loo. The bathroom door clicked and she heard him make his way to the kitchen. "Atlas! I'm making some tea. Do you want some?" There was a pause, thankfully Sherlock was used to her answering. "Atlas?" His hand was on the door knob to the lab now. 

When he entered his eyes went wide, his complexion changed and he made his way over.

"Atlas?" Sherlock asked, crouching down.

"Dad." Atlas whimpered as his hand placed her back. He caught sight of the glass.

"I know you don't want me to do this and I don't even want to but Atlas, I have to call an ambulance." Sherlock said, with a comforting smile. 

A moment later and Atlas' drooping eyes followed her father's movements as he cleared as much glass as he could without disturbing her.

"You had a fit. It was a long one." Sherlock said, Atlas screwing up her face.

"I'm scared, dad." Atlas frowned as she looked up at her dad.

"I'm not going to move you onto your side. We'll ask the paramedics." Sherlock sighed before he sat down beside her. He kept a firm hand on her back and rubbed his thumb over her shoulder blades. She let out a quiet sniffle and Sherlock kept rubbing at her back.

He got to his feet when he heard the ambulance arrive and Atlas could hear him beckoning the pair inside. 

"I arrived home and she'd almost just had it I think." Sherlock said flustered, as he led them over to Atlas. "And the jug broke."

"Alright, how long have you been with her?" The woman paramedic asked as she kneeled beside Atlas. 

"Seven minutes and twenty two seconds." Sherlock said quickly before the male paramedic came to kneel on the other side.

"Okay. I'm assuming your her dad." The man asked as he began to check over Atlas. "Hello Atlas. My name is Quentin and this is Jen."

"Hello." Jen said as she began to prod at Atlas' back and then move around her middle. 

"I think the first thing we need to do is move her into the recovery position." Quentin said to Jen, over Atlas's shoulder. 

"Okay, Atlas, we're going to move you onto your side." Jen said kindly and Atlas nodded once. She was moved onto her shoulder and her legs rearranged neatly so she couldn't tumble. Fatigue began to seep into the edges of her vision and before long she was having a light shone in her eyes. 

"Atlas, stay with me." Quentin smiled as he continued to shine a light on her pupils. 

"We need to get her to A&E and make sure we get some other things checked out." Quentin said as he looked at her eyes. Her eyes seemed to be drooping. "Mr Watson-Holmes?" He asked, Sherlock's head snapping up from where he'd been standing, looking at the ground.

"Is there any possibility she's been poisoned or come into contact with anything?" Quentin asked, Sherlock shaking his fervently.

"No, we're always really careful..." Sherlock informed. Come to think of it, her symptoms did pertain to a potential poisoning. 

"Okay." Quentin said before he got to his feet and went out to the ambulance to get a stretcher for Atlas. 

"Atlas, you need to stay with me." Jen said coming around to face her. "Look, look here." She pointed to Sherlock and Atlas' eyes became immediately trained on him. Still struggling to keep her eyes open, yet the focus on something was obviously making a difference. Her dulling eyes looked at her father as they moved her onto a stretcher. 

Sherlock looked worried and Atlas wanted to reach out a hand, put it in his and hold on. And her eyes drooped further and further and further until, despite her best efforts, the darkness of unconsciousness pulled her back in underwater. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN, Rosie and Sammy were informed of the situation via a punctuated text on the Watson-Holmes family WhatsApp group chat. Sammy had been added to it a few months earlier after he had been spending an increased amount of time with the Watson-Holmes family and only recently - after the decision he would be staying with them - did they come to the realisation, that it was just as well that he was. 

_**Lock: Atlas has been taken into hospital.**_

_**The Old Man: What?!** _

_**Sam: Is she okay?** _

_**The Old Man: Which hospital?!** _

_**Lock: you know which hospital. Just** _

_**Lock: it's not good.** _

_**Lock: I'm sorry.** _

_**The Old Man: Sherlock. Why are you saying sorry?** _

_**Lock: Because I should have been there.** _

_**Sammy: Whatever it is, whoever fault it is, I don't care. I'm about twenty minutes out.** _

_**The Old Man: About 5 with Ro.** _

_**Lock: okay.** _

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK stood in the waiting room, waiting for news or for John to appear with Rosie...

"Sherlock?!" John shouted as he entered the hospital, looking around, until his eyes sourced the younger man with strong arms wrapped around himself. He looked liked he was crying and John, with Rosie hanging off his hand, hot footed it over to Sherlock and just wrapped his arms around the younger man's shoulders. He rubbed his back as Sherlock let out a little sob and Rosie looked up at them wild eyed.

"What's happened?" John asked looking up at Sherlock fiercely.

"She had a fit...in the- the lab. I walked in and she was j-just lying on the floor. The jug - the jug had broke and caught her head. She was a mess. And now they- they..." Sherlock looked at John and for the last few moments had completely forgotten they were in a public setting. John pulled away to look at him. "They - they - they think she's been poisoned." 

"Okay." John said bringing Sherlock back into a hug and rubbing at his back again. 

"Dad." Rosie said quietly and Sherlock pulled out of the hug and squatted to Rosie's height.

"Daddy." Rosie looked at him. "Is she okay?"

"Not really Ro." Sherlock frowned. "Not really." 

"Will she get better?" Rosie asked with concern in her eyes and Jeff pulled to her chest. 

"We don't know." Sherlock said through his tears. "We really don't know."

"John! Sherlock!" Sammy shouted as he entered the waiting room a few moments later, calling out to the two men.

"Sammy." John sighed as Sammy ran over and stopped dead infront of them.

"Is she okay? Is Atlas alright?" Sammy asked, flustered. He ran a hand through his blond curls and looked at Sherlock and saw that he was crying.

"The doctor's don't know yet. But they believe she has been poisoned." Sherlock said, trying his best to sound collected.

"Oh god." Sammy said looking to the ceiling before putting his hands to his knees and looking at the floor. John reached out a tentative hand and placed it soothingly on his back. He rubbed gently. 

"Are you alright?" John asked, as Sammy nodded before standing to his full height - which was just a little shorter than Sherlock. "Come here." John opened his arms and offered Sammy a hug, and he took it. He rubbed his back as Sammy sniffed into his shoulder. 

"Are you the Watson-Holmes family?" A nurse asked, coming over to the group of four in the waiting room. 

"Yes." Sammy said, when no-one else could find a voice to speak.

"So, we have inserted an intubation tube and dosed her up on some anti-anxiety and anti-epilleptic medication. We are monitoring her closely and have set her up with an IV to get some fluids into her. She didn't have her medication in her system but we did find some alcohol in her system. Is there any chance that she could have alcohol poisoning?" A doctor said, coming to stand by the nurse. She was trying to look approachable but Sherlock could see that she was nearly at the end of her shift.

"No. No, she doesn't touch the stuff." John said quickly as a reply. 

"Are you sure?" The doctor asked again.

"We're positive." Sammy replied. "She doesn't like the smell of it and she really doesn't want to touch it. She has poor psychological links to it. She wouldn't want to."

"Okay. Is it possible that we are looking at an intended poisoning by a second party?" The doctor asked. 

"Yes." Sherlock squeaked as he pulled Rosie closer to his legs.

"Yes." Sammy and John joined afterwards. 

"Okay. She is currently still unconscious and we don't know how much of an affect the alcohol has had on her system. " The doctor informed quietly. "I suggest you call other family members to see to your children." 

"No." John replied quickly. "If it's alright with you. We want them here." He slung an arm around Sammy's shoulder. "With us."

"It could be a long wait. A few days." 

"Then we'll have to wait." Sammy replied.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THEY had to wait in the waiting room a while but soon, they were being led to a private, family room. Where, they settled onto a sofa and Rosie coloured some pages of a colouring book in. Sammy sat down on the sofa, Sherlock sitting next to him. He reached out an arm along the back of the sofa as John sat on the floor by Rosie. 

"She'll be okay right?" Sammy asked looking over to Sherlock who just becokoned for him to lean into his side. 

"She's Atlas." Sherlock said causing Sammy to laugh and John to do the same. "Are you worried about her?" 

"Yeah." Sammy sighed as Sherlock rubbed his shoulder. "Thank you." 

Sherlock looked at him confused. "For looking after me these past few days. And I mean, for looking after me these past few months." 

"You don't need to say thank you." John said looking up at him and smiling. 

"You're one of us."


	37. Poison In My Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a doctor and my writing is rubbish do I'll take this moment to remind you all that I am using this as a place to store my fanfiction and it is brilliant if you love it!
> 
> WARNING: Panic attacks and a very upset and angsty Sherlock.

THEY were allowed to see Atlas a few hours later. When they entered, Sherlock had cried with his hands hiding his face, John had cried too, infact, they'd all cried. She looked a mess with a few stitches in her temple, her hands were scratched, she had a tube down her throat to help her breath and an IV. She'd also had a catheter put in and she looked so little. So _small._

Sammy picked up Rosie and hugged her close, whilst John and Sherlock linked fingers and looked at each other. They walked forward and Sherlock bent down to reach out a hand to touch her cheek. 

"Oh Atlas." Sherlock sobbed. "What's happened to you?" He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes as the tears fell. 

"My little girl. My little girl. My little girl." Sherlock recited over and over and over until John just pulled him into a hug and let him cry into his shoulder. Sammy made his way over to Atlas with Rosie.

"So, guess what?" Sammy said, pulling a seat to the other side of the bed to John and Sherlock. "So, May has the hots for Michael Kiln in Lower Sixth and me and Xerxes keep making fun of her for it. Not much has happened since this morning. Oh, I'll tell you something really interesting...I managed to mix up my transposition things again..." Sammy laughed, John and Sherlock turning to look over. "I'm no good. When you get better, you need to teach me." Sammy sighed. "And Rosie. She was telling me that she wants to learn too." He smiled afterwards and looked to Rosie who was sitting on his knee. 

"At." Rosie said. "I hope your okay. I love you." Rosie looked up at Sammy. "And a boy asked me to go out with him today!" Sammy gave a chuckle.

"What did you tell him Ro?" Sammy asked.

"Atlas. I told him to go away. That's what you said I should do, because boys are a waste of time." Rosie giggled before frowning and looking back to Sammy again. Sherlock and John watched on before crossing round the edge of the bed to pull themselves some seats in next to Sammy and Rosie. John again, put out a comforting hand to Sammy's back and rubbed gently. Rosie climbed off Sammy's lap and climbed into Sherlock's lap. 

"Daddy." Rosie said climbing up and nestling into him. 

Soon, sleep caught them all up.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"HELLO," Mycroft said as be sidled into the single room quietly with Eurus by his side. He saw Sammy, asleep on the sofa in the room, with Rosie by his side. A blanket draped over the pair. Whilst in upright chairs, Sherlock and John were sat side by side, John's temple resting against Sherlock's shoulder to look at a book that was open. It was on bees and beekeeping and they looked like they were quite interested. 

"Hey," John said back looking up to give a tired smile then putting his head back against Sherlock's shoulder. "We have space to keep one lot now, Sherlock." There was a pause. "If you'd like to." 

"Serious?" Sherlock looked at John excitedly.

"Yeah. Course, love." John said looking up, before kissing him and looking back down. Then Sherlock turned to look at his siblings.

"Sorry, all the seats are taken up. We told Sammy to go to sleep and Rosie was already dozing so we put them there. I'm sure if you look you'll find some." John provided helpfully as he followed his husbands gaze to the siblings.

"Okay." Eurus whispered before she departed to find two chairs.

"How is she?" Mycroft asked looking over to his niece with sad eyes.

"Doing okay. Pretty steady for the moment. They are still trying to figure out what caused the initial seizure. It could have been her having a normal-for-Atlas seizure, or it could have been because of low blood sugar." John informed quietly.

"Because of the poisoning." Mycroft sighed as Eurus reappeared with two chairs and placed them on the other side of the bed to Sherlock and John. 

"Yeah." John replied. "They're keeping a close eye on her because no-one knows how long it was in her system, how much she had and I don't know but there's something fishy about it being alcohol poisoning...I just...I don't know if it is." 

"You should say." Eurus supplied helpfully. "Tell the doctors that you think they have the wrong diagnosis."

"It's just, Ida would have had to have consumed a hell of a lot of alcohol." Mycroft introduced as well and Sherlock nodded.

"She would have been conscious." Sherlock said again.

"There are some chemicals that can create similar effects when put in a human system. They don't show up on tok screens and all that stuff." Eurus added. "I'm going to go tell the doctors."

"They won't listen to you." John said. "They'll only listen to me. I have to go. If we're all agreed?" He looked round the room and for a moment he looked to Atlas, hoping she would nod enthusiastically and then comment on his old age and that funny walk that he did when he was determined, but of course, she didn't.

Nothing.

"So we've asked how Atlas is," Eurus smiled, once John had left the room. "How are the rest of you?"

And Sherlock just looked to the floor and let out a little sob.

"Oh Sherlock." Mycroft said quietly, deciding whether to walk over and comfort him like his ice man heart was furiously begging him to do or as his head was demanding him to ignore.

"I just...it should have been me. People shouldn't go after our kids. I want them to go after me." Sherlock sobbed as he looked and picked at a piece of thread coming out his trousers. "It didn't feel like this when she was shot. It didn't hurt. I want her back. It's only been about eighteen hours and I want her to come back. What if she doesn't? She could die. I don't think I could handle that. I've only just got her back." Sherlock rambled, clearly admitting everything to his siblings. His breathing was speeding up and his hands shaking as they lay dormant in his lap.

So Mycroft followed his heart and stood opposite Sherlock.

"Stand up." Mycroft insisted, looking down at his littlr brother. Sherlock didnt move. "Sherlock, stand up." He hissed.

Begrudgingly, Sherlock did as asked and stood, looking at Mycroft incredulously. Tears still streamed down his lost looking face. Mycroft then put a hand to Sherlock's back and pulled him towards him. Initially, Sherlock didn't react but soon enough he had his face in Mycroft's shoulder and his shaky hands wrapped around his torso.

"Calm it down." Mycroft whispered, rubbing at Sherlock's back lightly. "Just breathe, Sherlock. That's it. God, it's been a long time since we've done this little brother." There was a pause. "Hey, hey, hey, don't breathe too fast again. Just keep it steady. That's it, Sherlock. That's good." Sherlock sighed into Mycroft's shoulder.

"Have you ever?" Mycroft asked Sherlock. Sherlock looked at him confused. "Have you ever told John about your anxiety?" 

"No." Sherlock whispered. "I think he knows but I've never..."

"Had a panic attack." John's voice came as he stood in the doorway, he looked over to Sherlock with his face still in Mycroft's shoulder. 

Mycroft looked at John and nodded once. "I think me and Eurus will be going. It was nice to pop in. Tell us if anything changes." And they were gone, just as quick as they arrived. Sherlock's back still faced John's. John walked forward, slung his arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him in. 

"You have anxiety." John said and Sherlock nodded. "Well, we both know I'd be a rubbish doctor if I didn't know that." John's hand moved up to the base of the back of his neck.

"Probably." Sherlock stuttered out, his voice a gravelly mix.

"Yes, very probable." John sighed before he pulled the side of Sherlock's face down and kissed his temple. "Atlas has it too."

"We both knew that. Atlas, knows that." Sherlock said looking over to her. 

"And we both know that Rosie has it." John gave a little smile.

"And you have it." Sherlock whispered as he looked down at John.

"I do." John said. "Nothing major but sometimes. Yeah."

"I need an order." Sherlock said quickly.

"An order?" John questioned, looking ip to him as he flexed his hand on the end of the bed. 

"Of who's got it worse." Sherlock said quickly. 

"Sherlock." John sighed. "Everyone has it differently." 

"But for my mind Palace?" Sherlock said, blinking his eyes.

"No." John said sternly before his features softened. "I'll do it differently and you can make up as many scales as you want. They're important to you so I suppose that makes them important to me." John smiled and Sherlock just leaned against him a little as they made their way over to the chairs they had previously been sat in. "So, I have it where it just sits in my stomach. And that's about as far as it goes. Rosie has it that means she has a lower chance of speaking in public and also has it in the way that makes her feel ill. I don't know what yours is like and we both already know what it's like for Atlas." John said as he looked over to her. "We see it everyday with her. We have to reassure her every morning that she is going to be okay in school that day. We have to reassure her that she is loved because she's been through things that make her think she isn't. We have to hug her tight when she's freaking out and hyperventilating. She's had a sensory overload - you weren't there but we dealt with it. It causes her seizures. Whatever you need this information for, make sure that you don't leave out that it doesn't define us. Okay?" Sherlock nodded. 

"I want her back." Sherlock said. "I'm really scared, John."

"Hey, I know that, love." John frowned. "I am too. Seems like you got home and the worrying about you was over and suddenly I find myself worrying about our little girl. And what's going to happen to her. And I worry what might happen to Sammy and Rosie if Atlas doesn't..." John swallowed. "Y'know."

"I know." Sherlock smiled sadly.


	38. Beards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, not a doctor.

TIMOTHY and Wanda made the short drive over around about a week after Atlas was rushed into hospitak and arrived late one evening. The family were tired and were glad of the company . The pair snaked in with armfuls of Wanda and Timothy cooked meals but were told to keep back to the family room. There they lay it all out, with permission from the staff, with plastic cutlery and prepared the table. They pushed chairs around and lay for six. 

Soon enough, Wanda and Timothy were pulling them into the room and seating them down at the makeshift dining table.

"Wanda, you didn't have to." John said as he took a seat next to Sammy, who gave a tired smile. 

"By the state of those two, we did." Timothy said, his glance going between Sammy and Rosie - who was now, hopping into a seat next to Sherlock. 

They all sat down and began to eat. 

"How's everything with your sister, Sammy?" Timothy asked from the end of the table, looking over to the boy in question.

"Better. Getting better." Sammy said quietly, looking over Timothy.

"She's not." Sherlock said quickly and Sammy shook his head as he looked across the table. His eyes then fell to his lap as he welled up with tears. 

"It's probably going to be another fortnight at best."

"Till she's out?" Wanda asked looking at him apprehensively.

Sammy shook his head furiously. "No. That's her...uh..." He coughed and looked up to the ceiling before he let out another shaky breath. Sammy's hand ran over his mouth as he tried to conceal a sob. Immediately, John got to his feet, stood by Sammy's chair and put his arms around the boy's shoulders. He pulled him to his stomach and and put a hand to his cheek, rubbing with his thumb. Sammy let out a quiet sob as John bent to kiss his head.

"Hey, hey." John soothed rubbing at his backs. "I know, I know."

"Do you want to visit Georgia?" John asked pulling away, Sammy looking up at him. 

"No. No, Georgia's fate is sealed. Atlas's isn't." Sammy frowned before instinctively leaning back against John. As John continued to hug him.

"It's only Stage 3, keep up hope." John smiled.

"Stage 4. It's Stage 4 now. And the mets are flowing through her bloodstream, she's riddled with it like it's some sort of parasite." Sammy spat out, John continuing to rub his back furtively. "But Atlas..." 

"Is Atlas. And she will be fine. She always is." Timothy said, smiling from the end of the table.

"Sorry." Sammy said pulling away from John and looking around the table. 

"It's alright. Your allowed to. Infact, your entitled." Sherlock smiled before he put another mouthful of Smoked Basa Kejeree into his mouth and smiled at the taste. "This is really good, you need to give me the recipe. You could make it with allsorts of things."

"You could. Now, Sherlock," Wanda smirked. "How's the veggie in you doing?" 

"Pescatarian. I'm enjoying it. Rosie and Atlas seem quite keen on being pescatarian. I think Sammy likes it." Sherlock said, Sammy giving a little nod. "Just getting John around to it."

"I want to be. Think I'd miss bacon too much." John laughed before Sherlock smirked.

"Carnivore." Sherlock giggled and for a moment they forgot about Atlas. And enjoyed themselves.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THEY were so busy and preoccupied eating and chatting, that they didn't hear the nurse knock on the door the first time. She knocked a second time and Sherlock's head went up. Everyone else followed his gaze and Sherlock stood to stand opposite the nurse. He was smiling, so Sherlock took that as good news.

"She's awake." The young man smiled as John came to stand next to Sherlock. They waited expectantly for the nurse to continue. "We've removed the intubation tube." Everyone's eyes in the room lit up. "But...there is still a long road. We have a list of possible outcomes that could possibly happen and I need to stress now that...for all that this is a step in the right direction...there is an unfortunate chance that she may still experience extreme stress. And there is a rare chance of death." 

"What are the next steps?" Sherlock asked quickly.

"It depends...she could experience hallucinations, uncontrollable eye movements, seizures not caused by her condition, cardiac arrest, there is quite a long line. We don't know how the poison was been administered, how long and I know you can't help us with it. I respect that." He paused and looked around the room. "At the moment, it is recommended that we only have two people visiting her. Keep the stress down and from the information we have gathered, we think after a few days of being unconcious, it would be malpractice to now overwhelm her in any way."

"We understand." Sherlock smiled. "Mum? Dad?" Sherlock swivelled as the two grandparents looked up. "Do you two want to go first, then Sammy and Rosie can and then me and John'll go?" 

"Yeah, we'll only nip in and out. Let her know we came and then we'll sit in here with the kids whilst you two see her." Wanda smiled before they made their way to Atlas' room.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"HELLO Sweetheart." Wanda cooed as she went in and pulled a seat up, Timothy doing the same.

"Grand...ma." Atlas croaked as Wanda reached out a hand to stroke her hair. Brushing it out her eyes, Wanda gave a tearful smile. 

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't speak." Timothy smiled as he pulled Atlas' hand into his own. 

"Da-Dad." Atlas croaked again. "Dads."

"In the family room." Wanda smiled. "Rosie and Sammy are going to come in and see you, then your dads."

"I think John's nipped home to collect some things for you, Rosie and Sammy because they're going to put them up in one of the many family rooms. We've tried to tell them to go home but they won't." Timothy smiled and Atlas smiled back.

They sat in silence for the rest of the ten minute visit.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SAMMY carried a tired Rosie into the room to see Atlas smiling at him.

"Sam." Atlas croaked, as Sammy gave a little smile. "Ro." She croaked again and opened her arms out so that Sammy could lie Rosie next to her on the bed.

"Atlas. I love you. I love you. I love you." Rosie cried as she clutched Atlas tightly. 

"I love you too." Sammy added before joining the hug. "I think your dads really want to see you. Okay?" There was a pause. "I know our visit was short but your dad is hanging around outside and he's been so upset Atlas."

"Bye." Atlas croaked.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"DAD." Atlas said when the tall, dark haired man walked slowly into her room. He looked a mess, wide eyes and beginning to grow a bit of stubble. She gave a little cough and Sherlock's steps increased in fervour. "Sad?" 

"Yeah, course." Sherlock smiled as he pulled up a chair and reached put a hand to her forehead and placed it gently. Rubbing with his thumb, he brushed her hair out of her eyes and continued rubbing against her temple. 

"Pa?" Atlas asked as her eyes went wide in realisation.

"Nipped home." Sherlock said, as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"Oh yeah." Atlas croaked again. "I forgot." She looked at him with saddness in her eyes.

"He'll be here soon. He just needed to collect a few bits and bobs and I think he's going to being your jumper and some other things." Sherlock smiled before he rested his chin opposite her face on the mattress. "I missed you."

"I would say I missed you too, dad. But gathering by the stubble on your chin, I'm guessing I've been here a wee while." Atlas laughed, the croak having dissipated.

"About a week and a little bit." Sherlock said and Atlas' face fell.

"I was poisoned." Atlas whispered before looking up at her dad, who still had a hand stroking through her hair.

"You were." Sherlock said quietly, rubbing gently. "You have been poisoned. And you may feel like you can do anything but we have a long way to go. You won't even be able to take two steps yet before keeling over." 

"Ugghh." Atlas said frustratedly before wriggling a little till her forehead was touching Sherlock's chin and lips. "Dad?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" 

"When the hallucinations come. Don't leave me, yeah?" Atlas asked quietly.

"'Course not." Sherlock smiled.

Just then, the male nurse knocked at the door again, and he entered. 

"I was just coming in to take your bloods. I know it's repetitive but your down for yours to be taken every evening." He smiled, coming over. "Hello."

Sherlock sat back and watched as the nurse strapped Atlas' arm, tapped and pushed the needle in. The sickening noise of the tap, brought the poisoning home. 

"Alright?" Sherlock asked gently as he touched her other arm. She gave a quick nod, before the needle was removed and the nurse was standing before her.

"I advise you get some sleep." The nurse smiled, before shutting the door and leaving. 

"Papa."

"Yes, we can wait for papa." Sherlock smiled, fingers brushing her hair.

John came in ten minutes later, just as Atlas began to really struggle to keep her eyes open. Her head was still tucked next to Sherlock's chin and she gave a bright yet sad smile.

John just gave a smile in return before Atlas, opening her eyes fully, noted he had a beginning of a beard - and it suited him. He held up her fluffy socks and favourite jumper, along with Whisper, her phone and earphones, some books amongst other things. Atlas noted that he had also brought a razor. He placed all items on a bedside table.

"I had to go home and pick some bits up." John smiled as he pulled up a seat and reached out a hand to her cheek. 

"Yeah." Atlas whispered. "Thank you." John withdrew his hand and rested an elbow on the hospital mattress, his cheek in his palm. His other hand, coming to rest lightly next to his elbow. "It suits you."

"Huh?" John asked looking at her.

"The beard. It's nice." Atlas smiled as she shuffled to move a little closer to John, Sherlock following so she still had her forehead against his lips.

"Oh, thank you." John said, giving a little giggle. "Your not the only one. Your dad likes it too."

Sherlock sat up abruptly and began to blush a deep red. Atlas giving a laugh before Sherlock gulped, nodded. 

Silence descended before Atlas reached out a tremoring hand to touch Sherlock's face. Her fingers ran over the creases and lines of deep thought. Of deep worry and pain. Sherlock watched her facial expressions keenly as she ran her fingers over his nose and forehead. They ran up to his hairline as he crinkled his nose and Atlas then put her fingers back down and laughed as they went over the rumples of skin.

Then, she looked at John and reached out a hand to touch his face. In doing so she felt the lines of Afghanistans sun and the lines of pain, hurt and anger. She felt him smile under her fingers as they ran over the bristles of his beard before she dropped her hand to his wrist. Slipping her fingers round she pulled it from below his chin and took his hand in her own. Then, did the same to Sherlock so that her left was in John's and her right was in Sherlock's.

"I know this sounds like a stupid question." John said. "Are you alright? I'm not asking about physically, I'm talking about up here." He said tapping his temple with his index finger.

"It'll be okay." Atlas sighed pulling John's hand closer to her chest, along with Sherlock's. "I'm still scared though." She admitted. "And I really want a proper hug. But I want it tommorow morning when I wake up, instead of now."

"Alright. That can be arranged." John smiled.

"Definitely." Sherlock added, and Atlas could hear the smile.


	39. Doctor Aduba 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a doctor.
> 
> I never edit these.
> 
> WARNING: Vomit.

ATLAS started in bed at approximately 3:30am, sweat dripping down her forehead and sliding down her back. Her breathing was fast as she remained lying down, a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from making any unwanted noise. She looked over to where John had fallen asleep, his and Sherlock's hands long discarded on the mattress. She looked around the dim lit room, and out to the hallway where she saw the nurses going about. Her head was banging and her mind racing uncontrollably fast as she rejected all urges to fly. 

The light flicked on harshly, and she covered her eyes with her hands, which were, at this point, uncontrollably tremoring like luggage on a freight train. Removing her hands after her eyes adjusted, she looked at the backs of her hands, remaining lying down, and tilted her head. She could see the sweat even on the backs of her hands and she looked up to meet the eyes of the nurse. 

"Squeeze my hand." The nurse smiled as he sat on the bed. Atlas squeezed it repeatedly, her fingers clamping hard enough to make him wince. She heard her dads speaking to one side but as she looked around all she could see were blurry figures in a swooping, unfocused motion. She felt sick. 

Or rather she was sick. She thought. Couldn't really tell but before long she had a bucket bouncing against her front as she dry heaved. Then, soon after, she was being wrestled into a wheelchair and carted off to the shower block. Couldn't really tell but she had someone strip off her clothing and help her shower and change. She can only remember staying seated. Her legs too weak. 

Then, just as soon as she had left she was back but still as dazed as before, as they pushed her to sit, upright in the bed - supported helpfully by the bed. Her mind racing and confused.

"Atlas." The nurse smiled, or at least she guessed he smiled. "Can you remember anything that's just happened?"

"What?" Atlas asked, but she mustn't have said anything because the nurse just looked at her sadly. "Quick." She tried again, and this time she must have made a lot of noise because the nurse looked at her. Instead of looking at him, the teenager looked out the window to see the first rays of morning dancing over the city. 

But wasn't it three am?

"You had some seizures." The nurse informed. "You have a high temperature and have thrown up. You've had a shower and we cleaned the bed but you've had multiple absence seizures."

"Half an hour?" She asked, what she thought was loudly, but was actually barely a whisper.

"Two hours. Two and a half hours." The nurse said in reply. "Atlas, we have questions we need to ask. In a while, when you feel better."

Atlas nodded. Staring into the distance shortly after.

"I think we need to run a CT scan to check for any recent brain trauma." The nurse said and then it became apparent to Atlas that maybe he wasn't a nurse.

"Not nurse?" 

"No." The man smiled. "Doctor." 

"Doctor." Atlas cemented.

"Doctor Aduba."

"Is dead." Atlas corrected firmly, looking at the doctor in the eyes.

"No. That's my brother and his family, who I know you were very close to."

"White coat?"

"Don't wear one. Don't like it. Get's in the way."

"Like you."

"Good." 

There was a brief pause.

"Now, your dad's are out in the hallway, but they've fallen asleep." The doctor smiled weakly.

"Leave them." Atlas interjected. "They spend too much time worrying about me."

"I'm sure they don't think that." Doctor Aduba supplied helpfully.

"That's the problem." Atlas sighed as she looked to the ceiling. "Is it the poison?" She asked carefully after a while. 

"I'm afraid so." The doctor smiled sadly. "We've got quite a few more of these uphill battles to go."

"I...I don't think I'm ready." Atlas said looking around the room and biting her lip to prevent the tears from falling.

"For what?" 

"To leave my dad's. To leave my sister. To leave my best friend who might as well be my bloody brother." Atlas said, swallowing. "I don't think I'm ready to die."

"Listen to me. I'm going to do everything in my power to stop that from happening. Your too young and too smart to have a life as short. Your too important. I am _not_ going to give up on you." The doctor stopped and looked over to his left, then craned his neck to look behind him. He saw that her dads had woken up and were seemingly waiting to come in. Catching the nurse's eyeline he beckoned for them to come in with his arm.

Sherlock and John looked _worn_ as they shuffled into the private room. 

"So, I've just been speaking with Atlas about where we go next. And what happened." Doctor Aduba smiled. "And I've ordered a CT."

"Okay." Sherlock said sounding _worn._

"Thank you." John smiled, sounding less exhausted than Sherlock.

"If you need anything, push the button." Dr Aduba smiled before he exited.

There was a pause as Sherlock and John pulled up some chairs. 

"So," John said quietly, taking her hand in his. "Me and Sherlock have been talking." Atlas looked at him expectantly. "We're going to take this in shifts."

"You don't have to. You can still do your jobs and go to work and I don't know, see me on weekends." Atlas said, retracting her hand. "I want you to."

"I don't want to do that." Sherlock said quickly and Atlas then realised she'd made him upset. Reaching her hand out she pulled at his wrist until he opened it and she held his hand.

"I don't want to do that either." John said, giving a little smile. "I'm taking the first shift, starting now, while Sherlock goes home to sleep. Because I think we can both agree, he needs that the most right now." Atlas nodded before she squeezed his hand tight and he looked up at her. 

"And eat dad." Atlas said kindly. 

"And eat, love." John said looking at Sherlock fondly before leaning in to kiss him softly, and rest a small, but strong hand against his cheek. 

"I don't want to leave you." Sherlock said quietly looking up at Atlas before Atlas just looked back at him.

"I love you." Atlas said. "And because I love you, I'm letting you go home. Sleep a little, be like dad. Come home for the night shift. " Sherlock gave a little smile, kissed John again and Atlas' forehead before turning to leave.

"Dad?" Atlas said once, just as he was about to leave the room.

"Yeah?" He asked, turning to look at her.

"Shave." 

"You haven't told John to shave."

"Because it suits him."

"And it doesn't suit me."

"I don't know. No? It looks weird, and plus, it's like weird baby fluff." 

"Okay." Sherlock sparked a smile. "I'll bring my violin later."

"Please." Atlas smiled and then he was gone. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN was sitting stroking back her hair and looking at her when he remembered.

"Hey, you haven't had your hug." John remarked, Atlas looking up.

"I can't sit up."

"What?" John asked quickly.

"I can't sit up or like stand or walk," Atlas frowned. "Something like my muscles have been weakened." 

"Yeah. I know that. I have an idea though." John said, before he got to his feet, removed his blazer, set it over his chair and stood by the bed. "Shuffle over a little."

"Okay." Atlas said, as she began to shuffle with the help of John. He collected Whisper and her blue blanket before handing them to her. Then, toeing off his shoes he lined them up neatly.

"I'm going to climb into the bed with you. I brought "The Two Towers" and I'm going to read it to you." John said before collecting the book and thread bookmark that Atlas had made and climbed in. Lying on his left side, he outstretched his arms for Atlas and let her into his embrace. 

"Can we chat first papa?" Atlas asked as she looked up at him. He gave a little nod before looking at her. 

"What do you want to talk about?" John said, smiling a little.

"You tell me interesting stuff." Atlas said quietly.

"I haven't been off to do anything interesting." John said quietly, a hint of saddness echoing through his voice.

"Growing up." Atlas asked quietly.

"Well, I spent a lot of time in Scotland." John laughed. "Northumberland was home but really Scotland was always my true home. The place I was always hankering to be."

"Do you still want to be there now?" Atlas asked quietly.

"Yeah. I suppose I do. I like to think that in my old age I'll move there. But it's getting your dad off of bloody Surrey, which is lovely and all but I want to be in the Highlands." John said.

"I do too." Atlas whispered.

"You've never been."

"Dad used to take me on road trips over to Loch Ness and into Ullapool, Fort William, Mallaig, Ardnamurchan, Aviemore. We spent a week in Aberdeenshire and Moray and kayaked on the Spey." Atlas said. "And then you know..."

"Yeah." John stopped. "You know, your dad, if he could have a second chance, would never give you up. Ever. At that moment in time, Sherlock had no choice." John said, frowning as he looked down at her.

"I know. I just wish I could've stayed in Edinburgh longer." Atlas said quietly. 

"You know, I've never thought about it before. But you have quite a strong Scottish lilt to your voice." John said to her. "'Spose growing up around an abundance of Scottish family did a bit of a tuning to my ear, make me less likely to notice it or something." 

"Probably." Atlas laughed before humming against his chest. "Did you know that I was nine weeks early when I was born?"

"No." John said smiling. Something warm in his chest, as he came to the realisation that this was information that every dad knew about their child. "You were premature then?"

"Yeah. Really early. That's like over a whole two months. And when I was born, the cord was wrapped round my neck. Dad said something about me not breathing for ages. Although, that probably felt longer because he was...well...being a dad." Atlas smiled. "I was also too cold so they had to lay me on a heating pad with blankets over the top of me or something. He has a photo of me. In the weird incubation cot things." Atlas giggled. "I was in for ages. With the heart murmur and all that. Didn't have a seizure till I was about one and a half. I think Dad worried, still does. In the first few weeks, they monitored me in hospital because I was ill and I think I had a touch of jaundice too. And dad was scared because he blamed himself, said it was his fault because he should have kept a better eye on my mother, should have stopped her from having so much sex. He blamed _himself."_ She stopped and looked like she was going to cry.

"So it was quite eventful." John smiled. "Your a little fighter too then so you'll get through this." 

"I wish I knew you sooner papa." Atlas said into his chest. 

"It's not even been a year, love." John smirked as he kissed her hair.

"I know." Atlas whined. "But it feels like years. That's how much I _love_ you, pa." 

"It feels like years to me too." John chuckled. "And that's how much I love you too."


	40. Undiagnosed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a doctor.

"PAPA." Atlas said after falling asleep for about two hours. 

"Yeah?" John asked, rubbing at her back. 

"I'm scared." Atlas whispered against him. "I'm not ready." 

"Shh, shh." John soothed as he rubbed her back, then kissed her hair. "I know your not."

"Okay." Atlas said quietly.

"You'll be alright. And if your not, me and dad and Rosie and Sammy and anyone you want can be here." John said, biting his lip to stop himself from crying. But the walls weren't thick enough and before long he was letting out a muffled sob.

"I'm going to try papa." Atlas whispered. "I want to try. I need you and dad's help but I really want to try."

"I know. I'm just an absolute wuss." John remarked and Atlas gave a quiet giggle as John gave another little cry.

"Oh papa." Atlas said quietly. "Your not a wuss. No one can do what you've done and be a wuss."

John chuckled and pulled away from her hair to reveal a tear stained face. 

"I love you, pa." Atlas said, looking at him seriously.

"I love you too, love." John smiled as he ran a hand over his beard and wiped at his eyes. "I'm just worried about you and your dad and Rosie and Sammy, hell, I'm even worried about my mum and sister." 

"Sorry." Atlas said quietly.

"Not your fault." John smiled softly as he looked at her. 

"Think I'm going to go back to sleep again." Atlas smiled, before John wriggled closer and wrapped his arms around her again. 

"Okay." John whispered and within moments, she was asleep.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK tossed and turned in bed, restless like never before. Rosie and Sammy were with his parents and siblings along with the dog. And the house was, an unbelievably eerie quiet. Jumping out of bed he threw on his usual attire and shoes before heading out into the hallway. From there he made his way down the stairs, to the front door and collected his coat. And without looking back, stepped out into the bright and beautiful day. 

He forced a smile past strangers and forced a smile to the perfectly willing taxi driver who drove him to Mycrofts.

_**Sherlock: I'm coming by.**_

_**Mycroft: Alright. I think they want to see you.** _

_**Sherlock: Okay. I'll only be there a while. I'm going back to the hospital.** _

_**Mycroft: I know she's awake.** _

_**Mycroft: What's happened?** _

_**Sherlock: Last night was a bad night so me and John decided to split our time with her.** _

_**Mycroft: Alright, little brother. See you soon.** _

As soon as Sherlock arrived he was pleasantly surprised to hear the giggles of his daughter and the deeper, male laugh of a one Sammy Walters. Slipping in the front door, he walked through into the kitchen where he could see the pair of them making cupcakes with Eurus who, somehow, had a spot of frosting on her nose and with Mycroft, who also seemed relaxed. Rosie spotted Sherlock quite quickly after his arrival and jumped off the stool she was standing on and ran towards him.

"Daddy! Dad!" She pretty much screamed, as she ran towards him with sticky fingers covered in a white gloop. 

"Hello Bee." Sherlock said, squatting down to her height so that he could meet her with eager, awaiting arms.

"I missed you daddy. I missed you." Rosie said looking at him after being pulled into a hug.

"I missed you too, Ro." Sherlock said quietly as he closed his eyes and opened them again. He looked straight at her. 

"How's At?" Rosie asked quietly, her bottom lip wobbling in the way that only a young child's can.

"She's alright. Last night was a little rough." Sherlock said before standing to his feet, taking Rosie's hand and walking towards the counter where they'd been making cupcakes. Sammy watched with the same saddness as Sherlock slowly moved from his momentary pause towards him.

"How's Georgia?" Sherlock said quietly.

"Still the same." Sammy said quietly as he put some frosting on top of a cupcake. 

"I'm not really good at this." Sherlock said quietly. "But would you like a hug? Atlas normally likes one when she's sad." 

Sammy pulled himself upright and looked at Sherlock before wrapping his arms around his waist and putting his temple against his chest. Sherlock, with an air of respect, placed a gentle hand to his back and rubbed lightly. Before he knew what he was doing, he kissed Sammy's hair and rested a warm cheek on top of his head. 

"Thank you." Sammy whispered quietly. 

"Would you like to come with me to the hospital?" Sherlock asked, pulling away from Sammy and looking over to Rosie.

"Yeah." Rosie said smiling and giggling. "Pease."

"Okay then." Sherlock smiled. "We'll leave in a little while. John texted to say that Atlas had just gone to sleep."

"So what happened last night?" Mycroft asked, coming over.

"She was a mess. I'm not going to explain it now. But it wasn't good." Sherlock sighed before helping Rosie put confetti eyes on a rainbow frosted muffin.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK was carrying Rosie whilst Sammy skulked near the back with his guitar and Sherlock's violin as they walked down the hallway of Atlas' floor. Sherlock looked back to Sammy, only to realise he was quite far behind, so he stood and waited for him to catch up. Once he had, he slung an arm around his shoulder, and they continued along the hallway to Atlas' room. 

Sherlock looked in and realised she was still sleeping against John's chest on the bed. John however seemed to be awake as he stroked strands of hair out of her eyes.

"We need to be quiet. She's still asleep." Sherlock said as he put Rosie down and took her hand and walked in, Sammy close behind.

"Oh." John said, with quiet surprise as Sherlock came into the room. "Hey." 

"Hey." Sherlock said coming over to kiss John before sitting in the seat that had already been pulled up. Rosie hopped into his lap whilst Sammy pulled over another chair quietly after putting his guitar to one side.

"Has she slept alot?" Sammy asked and John gave a nod.

"Sort of. Here and there." John said, looking over to Sammy and Sherlock over his shoulder. "I don't suppose you guys could but your chairs over there. Then I can look at you."

Sherlock chuckled before lifting Rosie off his lap and moving his chair to the other side, Sammy doing the same. 

"Anything happened since last night?" Sherlock enquired.

"I'd have texted you but no. Nothing." John smiled before he dropped his nose to Atlas' hair as she began to stir a little. She settled again and soon, the room was filled with deep breathing of a restful sleep again. "Your also supposed to be sleeping William Sherlock Scott Watson-Holmes." 

"Yeah. I couldn't. I went and got Rosie and Sammy and came here instead." Sherlock said quietly.

"I understand that." John smiled. "They've been looking into what caused the initial seizure and all of her previous ones."

"So, it's not NES?" Sherlock asked.

"They don't know. Awaiting the results of her CT scan because they have a hold up but it shouldn't be too long." John said quietly. 

"What are they testing for?" Sherlock asked quietly, looking up at John. 

"Not sure." John sighed. "They asked if we knew what she was like off her medication and I mentioned the tremors that she had back at Christmas when she wasn't on them, how she still experienced both forms of seizure. Then they got asking about her anxiety and depression. So, I really don't know what they're hitting at. It's a bit of a shot in the dark. They said that depending on what the results of the CT was, that they would have a look into her memory aswell. I said that her short term memory is hopeless. She asks what's for tea and five minutes later, she's asking again. But that her long term memory is amazing. They said that that might help get to the bottom. Although, they were saying that alot of the tests will be cloudy until the poison is out her system and we still have a long way to go with that." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

MYCROFT and Eurus picked up Sammy and Rosie a few hours later leaving John and Sherlock to sit with Atlas for most of the evening.

The kind doctor that Atlas liked came in just after she had woken up and was now sitting up in her bed, John back in a seat to one side.

"Hello." Doctor Aduba smiled, standing at the end of his bed. "So, your CT scan has shown us something quite interesting but we need to run a few physical tests before making a final diagnosis. As I'm a pediatrician, I'm not qualified to run these tests but our neurology surgeon is going to come in and see you once we think your clear of the poison symptoms because, as is always the way, there are crossovers between the symptoms of what we are looking for and other potential diagnoses."

"Okay." Atlas said quietly. "It's not serious is it?" 

"I'm afraid I can't answer that yes or no." Doctor Aduba frowned. 

"Okay." Atlas sighed.

"Your out of the major red for the poison." Doctor Aduba informed before he frowned. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, my cheek is just tingling a little." Atlas laughed before Doctor Aduba came around and touched it. 

"Does it hurt?" Dr Aduba asked.

"No, just tingles." Atlas sighed before Dr Aduba prodded again at her cheek.

"Is it anywhere else?" Dr Aduba questioned as Atlas nodded slowly.

"It's in my arm aswell." Atlas said quietly.

"All in the same side?" 

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll make sure to bring it up to Dr Young the neuro-surgeon so she keeps that in mind while she checks you over." Dr Aduba smiles. "For now, I'll leave you in peace. Get some sleep." 

"Okay." Atlas smiled. "Thank you." There was a brief, melodic pause. "You can be heading home if you want papa."

"No..." John said. "Can...Do you mind if I stay? Only, I had a little nap while you were sleeping at one point and it's the most restful yet." 

Sherlock removed his coat and his blazer and put a shirted arm onto the pillow above Atlas' head as she turned onto her side. Then, with gentle fingers in her hair, she wriggled to the edge of the bed and reached out a hand to take John's.

"Papa? Dad?" Atlas asked, looking at each of them in turn as the two of them squished next to each other.

"Yeah?" Sherlock asked.

"Do you guys know what they think it is?" 

"No."

"No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...my idea for what Atlas actually has besides her poison is hella complicated so donut kill me.


	41. Real or Fantasy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am not a doctor.
> 
> WARNING: Hallucinations, panic attacks and cardiac arrest.

ATLAS woke up to the sounds of guns going off in the distance at a deafening rate. Blinking her eyes open slowly she could feel the moss beneath her finger tips. She tried to push herself up but found her body was too weak to carry her wait and she felt herself fall back down onto the cool ground. The sky was dark, cast in speckled stars and she couldn't tell whether she was alone or with company. Flipping over onto her back with extreme effort she found herself falling and falling and falling and falling until she felt herself hit the ground again. Looking up she could see she was amongst some trees and as she thought about it she could feel the earth accumulating around her back and her head. She resisted the urge to cough as she blinked rapidly as she tried to flicker out of what she was seeing. 

There were voices in the distance and she felt herself finally be able to sit up. In the distance she could see a flicker of yellow light and she held onto that viewpoint as she pulled herself to a standing position. Grabbing a nearby trunk as she nearly fell over, she tried to make her way over to the lights and the shouting and the gunshots and the wails. Trees and their branches provided excellent support as she weaved her way through the dense forest. 

But then something must have happened, because that's when the rain started to lash down on her. She felt it running down her temple and down her right forearm, pooling on the ground. And then something else must've happened because before long she found herself short of breath and with immense pain in her chest. And within moments of that happening the noises in her head stopped and her ears were filled with a persistent drone as the starry sky began to darken and the light began to fade.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"A HEART attack?" Sherlock said exasperatedly as he paced the room. "She's bloody sixteen. How the hell?"

"We did warn at the beginning that we may see an episode of cardiac arrest albeit very rare." Doctor Aduba supplied helpfully.

"Then how did it happen?" Sherlock shouted angrily, feeling his cheeks flush under his skin. 

"Sherlock." John said gently from the window where he was looking down onto the streets below.

"How did it happen?" Sherlock asked again with a crack in his voice which was barely a whisper.

"The poison made it happen but we believe that whilst you two were out collecting something to eat from the cafe and having a momentary break, which is, by the way, completely understandable, she may have started hallucinating. Another symptom we were predicting may occur, and when it would occur, it would put stress on her body due to the severity of the hallucinations. However, we did not anticipate them to occur so soon or for Atlas, and please don't take this the wrong way, to be quite as clever about it as she was. In her head she may have been off somewhere else but her fight instinct was clever enough to switch off her monitors _before_ pulling out her IV's and just about every other medication we were pumping into her system. From there she made her way into the hallway, where when they tried to stop her she ducked and dived before stopping and going into cardiac arrest. Then we followed procedure."

"She's...She's too...she...she can't...she just can't...she...she...she's my little...I just...she's so young..." Sherlock said as he fell into a chair with his head in his hands.

"I understand." Dr Aduba sighed. "But we must focus on the fact that she is alive." 

"She's...she's alive...but...I need my friend back...I need my...she's..." Sherlock sobbed into his hands whilst John stood off to the side looking out the window.

"Your best friend." John said quietly. 

"Other...other than you...she's...I can't..." Sherlock sobbed before Doctor Aduba and John shared a knowing look and the young Doctor exited the room. 

As soon as the door clicked, Sherlock's whole body began to shake with ragged breaths and huge sobs. The family room being filled with the sounds of pain. 

"Sherlock." John said, through his own tears, coming over to him. Sherlock's breathing began to speed up and spiral out of control. The older man's fingers snuck around Sherlock's wrist and closed to take his pulse. Speedy. Just like his breathing. "Sherlock."

"She's...I...it was...she...for...for years it was...was...just...me and her...and...I can't...I lo..I'm not..." Sherlock managed to sob out between ragged breaths. 

"Sherlock. I know, I know. Slow down." John said kneeling infront of his husband who's hands were cradling his head 

"I...I...love...you...but I...I've only...just got her back." Sherlock garbled out pulling at his hair with his right hand.

"Sherlock. You need to breathe." John whispered quietly his hand gently rubbing on Sherlock's knee.  
"Hey, hey...just breathe." 

"John." Sherlock strangled out through a breath.

"Don't speak because I understand. Atlas is your best friend other than me." John smiled but frowned when Sherlock didn't slow his breathing and instead it picked up. "Hey, hey...Sherlock...you need to slow it down. Your having a panic attack. You need to breathe."

"John." Sherlock cried.

"I'm right here, love." John said rubbing at his husbands knee and giving a weak smile. 

"John." Sherlock said again. "John."

"Shhh, shh. Sherlock, deep breaths." John said rubbing his knee again, gently. 

"John." 

"I'm here."

"John." Sherlock sobbed through ragged breaths. 

"I know. I know. I'm struggling with it too." John sighed as he looped his fingers around Sherlock's wrists. "Just breathe. In through your nose out through your mouth. In," John breathed in and Sherlock staggered a breath in. "And out," John breathed out and so did Sherlock. "In...and out." There was a pause as Sherlock and John did it together. "That's it. That's good Sherlock." 

"John." Sherlock whimpered after his breaths got back to normal. 

"Sherlock." John said with a slight smile before he found himself being almost toppled over by Sherlock as he slouched off his chair and wrapped his arms around John, cheek against chest. 

"John." Sherlock cemented. "Your my person." 

"Did you just quote popular culture?" John asked as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock. Sitting on the floor like a child, Sherlock gave a baritone chuckle.

"Hmmm..." Sherlock hummed before pulling himself off of John and getting to his feet and pulling John up. "Do I look alright?"

"Sherlock." John said quietly, reaching up a hand to place it on his cheek. "You look how everyone would expect. You love her. Now, let us go see our little girl. Who, though I never knew her as a baby or until she was fifteen, I still find myself thinking of her as a little girl. Young child. Whatever you want to call it."

"Your her dad John. She doesn't care about all that. You've seen her birth certificate, you know her birthday, her flaws, her favourite food. Your my husband, your allowed to picture her as a little girl." Sherlock assured as he smiled into John's hand. "You even talk to her about things I find positively boring. And your here...and won't leave when your supposed to."

"I'm not leaving." John smiled.

"And I _really_ don't want you to either." Sherlock smiled before he hugged John again. "We can go in a minute. I just need another hug." 

"Ahhh, it's taken me near on ten years to get you to the point where you will actually admit you need a hug."

"It's your fault John." Sherlock laughed into his shoulder John smiling back before they pulled away and went to Atlas' room.

Atlas was asleep when they entered with a breathing mask on, her head tilted slightly to one side. She looked tired even when she was asleep. The two men settled themselves in chairs by her bedside, John leaning against Sherlock over the arm rest. 

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked looking down to his husband and immediately putting his nose in the older man's hair. 

"No, yes, I don't know. I don't know how to answer that when our daughter is lying in a hospital bed with poisoning symptoms and being tested for another illness which is god knows what." John whispered into Sherlock's shoulder.

"I think they're going to be testing for FND." Sherlock whispered into John's hair, causing the other man to look up at Sherlock sharply. 

"Functional Neurological Disorder." John said quietly, looking up at Sherlock. "What makes you say that?" 

"I don't know. It's been a suspicion of mine for a while." Sherlock hummed.

"Why didn't you say anything?" John asked quietly.

"Because I thought I was wrong..." Sherlock said quietly before resting his temple against John's. 

"Oh Sherlock." John said quietly as he pulled the younger man closer to him. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SUN streamed and dappled across the dim lit room the following morning and Atlas blinked her eyes open. She looked over to her dads and saw them sleeping and sighed. Closing her eyes again she felt a pounding in her head and reopened them when she heard quiet footsteps.

"How are you?" Doctor Aduba asked, gently walking in. 

"O-kay." Atlas stammered before Doctor Aduba gave a kind smile. "Head...hurts..."

"Okay." Doctor Aduba smiled. Atlas began to take off her mask and the Doctor put up his hands. "Atlas, don't. No, no...you need to stay in bed." 

"What-what happened? What? I..." Atlas asked as she tried to pull the mask off and then her eyes met icy blue ones that matched her own. Soft and gentle and urgent and kind and...  
"Dad." 

"Shhh...shhh..." Sherlock was muttering as he pulled Atlas to sit. He sat on the bed and pulled her to his chest. "I know. I know." 

"What happened?" Atlas sobbed against Sherlock.

"Now, I don't want to alarm you." Doctor Aduba smiled. "You had a heart attack." 

"What?" Atlas asked looking up at him whilst her bottom lip wobbled. She felt John standing beside her, a gentle arm wrapping over part of her back. 

"You went into cardiac arrest. Your heart stopped." Doctor Aduba said frowning before he nodded to John and left the room. John carefully removed Atlas' mask and put it to one side, she could use it as and when she would need it. 

"I'm...I'm not ready." Atlas sobbed into Sherlock as John came to sit next to the man cradling their daughter.

"You can do this." Sherlock said strongly. "Atlas, you can do this."

"I can't. What...what if I'm not strong enough?" Atlas sobbed before John lifted her head and brushed her hair out of her eyes. 

"You are, darling. You can do it. It's a long way. But we have to try." John said smiling as he held Atlas face between his hands. "Because me and dad, we're not ready either. But you have to keep fighting the poison."

"I love you guys." Atlas sobbed before falling against John's chest, Sherlock joining up to make it a group hug. 

"You can do it." Sherlock sighed. "You can do it. I love you." 

"I love you." John repeated, but by then Atlas had already fallen asleep against his chest.


	42. A Moment of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Vomit. Seizures. The norm.
> 
> I don't edit these.
> 
> On another note, I can't find a place to end this book. Its a while until it can easily conclude and at least ten chapters until I can pull it all together. 
> 
> At 80 I will force myself to stop and start the next book. However, it remains to be seen.
> 
> Think the next book will be called "Shining Ships and Rosé Lips."

"HEY." Sammy said walking in to see Atlas sitting up in bed. She looked brighter than she had a few days earlier. Well, to be honest that was to be expected, it had been a few days since her heart attack and she'd only had one convulsive seizure. She still had a couple of absence seizures in a day but she was overall, starting to improve. 

"Hey," Atlas smiled as Sammy came to sit on the bed. "I missed you Sam."

"I missed you too." Sammy smiled, taking her hands into his own and looking at her. "I brought my guitar _and_ I brought some people who _really_ want to see you." And then Atlas watched as Xerxes and May mad their way in though the door with bright smiles that went from ear to ear. Atlas' mouth dropped open and she opened up her arms to take a hug from May and Xerxes in turn.

"We brought some flowers." May said, opening a plastic reusable box of daisies causing Atlas to laugh. "We thought we could make daisy chains and have a society meeting." 

"That would be nice. And I just had a nap." Atlas laughed looking at May and Xerxes as they hopped up onto the bed, whilst Sammy sat next to Atlas and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She rested her head against his shoulder.

"So, how have you been?" May smiled as she tucked her hair behind her ear and pulled two daisy's out the box, fastening them together.

"Well...okay...still having seizures." Atlas frowned. "And I feel a bit nauseous from time to time. Migraines and I've had hallucinations." 

"I didn't tell them about the other day." Sammy intervened before Atlas looked to her lap.

"Oh." Atlas said before mumbling an _"it's not that important though."_

"Atlas, you shouldn't be ashamed." Sammy reassured, rubbing her arm.

"I had a heart attack." Atlas muttered. "And my heart stopped."

"Oh Atlas." Xerxes signed before leaning forward and giving her a hug. May joined it soon after and then Atlas pulled away.

"Thanks." Atlas smiled. "For coming. I love my dads but different company is nice."

"How's your dad?" May asked. "Your papa I mean."

"Oh, he's okay." Atlas said quietly. "Sammy's been with him more than I have."

"He's alright. Been more caught up here and he seems okay. Sherlock was a little rough the other day but other than that." Sammy smiled as he rubbed Atlas' arms again.

"Do you want to make a daisy chain crown?" May asked Atlas, offering some daisy's but Atlas shook her head.

"I can't." Atlas sighed and held up her hands to show them shaking. "They took me off my seizure medication because they're running some tests for what may actually be causing the seizures and tremors and my terrible short term memory." Atlas chuckled at that last part before it died in her throat.

"How are they testing?" Xerxes signed and Atlas smiled.

"I don't know but I'm seeing a neurologist." Atlas sighed and put her head back against Sammy and he rested his cheek on the crown of dark curls.

Atlas found herself with a daisy crown on her head, laughing with her friends. Soon though, she tired and Sammy saw as she slouched against him and her eyes began to droop. 

"We'll see you later." May said tapping Atlas thigh as she looked up and smiled. Xerxes signed his goodbye and just as soon as they left, Atlas was pulling a basin into her lap and throwing up into it. 

"Oh Atlas." Sammy sighed as he rubbed her back and sat up. "Okay. Okay. Do you need me to get you a doctor?" Atlas shook her head and held up her hand as she heaved again and threw up the contents of her stomach - which wasn't much. Doctor Aduba appeared and stood by her bedside as she threw up some more.

"It's alright." Sammy assured as he rubbed her back. She reached out a hand to take his as she dry heaved into the basin. 

"Atlas. I'm just going to take your temperature." Doctor Aduba smiled as he put a thermometer in her ear a few times. As suspected, her temperature was up.

"Where are my dads?" Atlas asked quietly before throwing up and producing only clear fluid. She had tears in her eyes. 

"There was a lady arrived who wished to speak to them." Doctor Aduba smiled. "I think it was a lady from the family court."

"Wh-what?" Atlas stuttered then she began to cry. "No...no...no we...no...papa's supposed to be...no..."

"Atlas?" Sammy asked.

"I forgot...I was so caught up worrying about me that I completely forgot that we were supposed to be at family court this week." Atlas sobbed before dry heaving and continuing to cry. "I want my dad's."

"Okay. We'll see about going to get them in a moment." Sammy smiled before he sat with Atlas for another few minutes. She only continued to sob.

"Where are my dads?" She asked again after some time and Doctor Aduba sighed, exchanged a nod with Sammy and left the room.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"EXCUSE me." Doctor Aduba said, knocking on the door of the family room where John and Sherlock were and entering. "Doctor and Mr Watson-Holmes. Atlas is asking for you."

"What about her friends?" Sherlock asked as he and John got to their feet.

"Left about ten minutes ago. She's been violently throwing up and it doesn't show any signs of slowing. She's upset and keeps asking for you both." Doctor Aduba informed and John looked back to the woman.

"I've got to go. I don't care what you say or - or do...I need to go see my daughter." John said before he and Sherlock made their way to the bedroom just as Atlas dry heaved into the bucket.

"Oh love." John said as Atlas only cried when he spoke, Sammy moving away. John took his place and Atlas leaned her temple against John's stomach. Sherlock came over to stand aswell. It didn't last long as after another few moments she was dry heaving again to a sob or five. 

What John hadn't noticed was that the lady from the family Court had followed them in and was now watching the exchange.

"I'm sorry papa. I'm sorry papa. I'm sorry papa. I want you to be my dad. I'm sorry papa. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Atlas sobbed as she rested her temple back against his stomach, his hand resting on the side of her head gently.

"Shhh. Shhh. We'll worry about that later. For now," John said and he sounded so convinced right up until his voice broke. "For now, you have to focus on getting better. On fighting. Please. So that you can, when your old and grey in a nursing home having lived a wonderful life, you can confidently say I was your dad. Please. Please fight so that I can say you were my daughter and nobody can ever say you aren't. So you can be at my bedside when I die and so that you and Rosie and Sammy's one day if he let's me put his name down on my will-" Sammy's head shot up. "Can be in charge of what I leave and can make my decisions for me if I can't." 

"Papa." Atlas sobbed against him and he just stayed still and held her.

"Are you finished?" Doctor Aduba asked before he took the basin and handed it to the smiley nurse. "We've seen a spike in her temperature so we're going to keep a keen eye on her overnight because we haven't ruled out-"

"Another heart attack." John replied and he felt Atlas began to shake in his arms. "Shh...shhh...I know....I know..." Sherlock sat on the bed opposite her and held her hands. 

"We're here." Sherlock whispered. "Forever."

"And always." Atlas whispered as she clutched at John. "Where's Rosie?"

"With Uncle Mycroft and Aunty Eurus." John said, rubbing a thumb over her temple. 

"Okay." Atlas said quietly before sagging against John's grip. He gently laid her down to lie before pulling up a seat and holding her hand, squeezing it gently. Sammy came to sit by him and rested his head against John's shoulder. "Sammy." 

"Yeah?" Sammy asked, lifting his cheek from John's shoulder to look at her. 

"Can you sit next to me?" Atlas asked before Sammy, who was still wearing a forgotten flower crown got to his feet and made his way around the bed. Hopping onto the other side, they found themselves in the same position they'd been in earlier with Atlas' head resting against him. Sherlock moved from the bed to a chair with a gentle smile. 

"Sammy?" Atlas asked again. 

"Yeah?" Sammy replied putting out an arm as Atlas settled against him.

"I'm going to go to sleep now." Atlas sighed contentedly, watching as the lady from the family Court moved in the room and took off outside. Her heels clicking softly.

"Okay. You do that." Sammy smirked before Atlas slowly drifted to sleep. "Sleep well."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

WHEN Atlas woke, she wasn't resting against Sammy anymore but instead found herself resting against Sherlock. Still in the same position she had gone to sleep in, Sherlock and Sammy must have changed over.

"Dad?" Atlas asked sleepily, wriggling against him.

"Shhh....shhh." Sherlock comforted before opening his eyes and looking down to her. Atlas now realised the room was dark and she could only see John sleeping on the sofa at the side of the room.

"It is you." She confirmed and Sherlock nodded. "How late is it?"

"Just after," He flicked on his phone. "One AM." 

"Oh." Atlas said quietly. "I slept through."

"You did. Sammy got picked up by-"

"Eurus and Mycroft." Atlas sighed before she rested her head against his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now, what do you want?" Sherlock chuckled as she rubbed her nose against his shoulder.

"Can we play a game on your phone?" Atlas asked quietly.

"Yeah." Sherlock smiled before getting into his phone with a thumbprint before pulling up his games. However, he turned down the brightness and checked his volume was down. "You pick." He said, handing his phone over.

"Okay." Atlas said before looking at it intently and handing it back. "I...I can't dad." 

"Can't what?" Sherlock asked.

"Choose. Your going to have to do the mechanics anyway." Atlas sighed as she looked at her tremoring hands.

"Hey, hey." Sherlock said, clamping a large delicate hand over her tremors before tapping on a game called 'Nobodies' with his right hand. "It will be okay."

Atlas watched Sherlock playing the game in landscape, her cheek on his shoulder. 

"Put the cloth in there." Atlas said pointing to the big waste bin on the screen. Sherlock tapped it and in went the cloth and the quiet noise of what happened made them chuckle.

They played lots and lots of the game, getting through the disposal of three bodies before they got bored and decided that they wanted to watch a programme. Quietly they argued before Atlas managed to persuade her dad into watching some episodes of "Glee." Just as it approached three AM Atlas giggled a little too loudly at the cringe of a one Rachel Berry ⭐ and John began to stir on the couch. Sherlock paused the episode before looking down to Atlas then back over to John who was now peering through the darkness.

"Shouldn't you two be sleeping?" John asked gathering Atlas' blue blanket he'd pinched, pulling it around himself and standing to his feet. The glow of Sherlock's phone led him over to the bed. 

"Sorry." Atlas snorted before John shook his head with a smirk.

"Alright. Budge up. Both of you." John said and Sherlock helped Atlas move over. It was a squeeze, but thanks to two very tall, very skinny people the three of them fit onto the bed and Sherlock changed over to an episode of Doctor Who.

Atlas' head rested against Sherlock's shoulder as he hit play on "The Empty Child". 

They stayed that way a while. At least, until Atlas had an absence seizure and Sherlock found himself pausing the video. It was a long one and as they looked at her, her mouth began to click in an unrythmic phrase. 

"Do we need to get Dr Aduba?" Sherlock asked quietly, looking over to John with worrying etching across his face. 

"No. No, I think it's o-" John began but then her body went rigid, her eyes rolled and she was sent like waves into a boulder, into a seizure. Her whole body convulsed, her mouth continuously clicked and both men found themselves propelling off the bed to get out the way. Beeping summoned the doctor and nurses to her bedside, as they administered a needle to her arm to subside the seizure. But it kept going.

And going.

Until Dr Aduba ordered another round of medication and finally it ebbed away and came to an end. And it felt like an eternity until she came around but when she did, all she wanted to do was cry. Lying on her side whilst all the nurses were still in the room she curled up tight, squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands over her ears. She tried counting. But found it boring. So instead, she started listing off American States. Trying to gather them all.

_Mississippi  
New York  
Orange County  
New Hampshire  
Minnesota  
California  
Texas  
Iowa  
Idaho... _

And when she done that and the piercing noise of the room still hadn't dissipated, she moved to something she deemed harder. Naming a whisky for each letter of the alphabet.

_Ardmore  
Ballvenie  
Cragganmore  
Dallas Dhu... _

She continued to list them in her head, ignoring the outside world with astounding capability and before long she was nearing the last few letters of the alphabet.

_Scapa Flow  
Tomnavoulin _

She couldn't think of one for U but supposed there could be a Uist. Or a Uigg. However, she found herself halting, pausing when there was a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Don't move." A voice came, barely a whisper. "Don't speak and don't open your eyes. Your safe. Your in hospital. Your ill. We've closed the blinds and killed all the lights. We've muted your monitors and switched off the fan. Now," the voice paused. "It's only me and papa, but we can leave i-"

But Atlas's hand jumped out and grabbed onto a suit arm harshly. It was tight and scared and worried and she could now feel a chill on her bare legs. 

"Just breathe." Sherlock whispered as he rubbed at her shoulder. "Just...breathe. That's good. Good."

"That's good, love." Came John's voice, soft and gentle. 

"I'm cold." Atlas rasped before slowly blinking open her eyes. The room was dark and she could just about see the silhouette of John sitting in a chair. "Sit."

"Okay." Sherlock said. "I'll help you up." His voice was plain, simple and practiced, like he knew what he was going to say, the meter was measured. Gentle hands slid around her back and pulled her to him in the darkness. Her whole body physically sighed in relief as she sagged against him.

"Do you want to talk?" John had whispered as he lifted his chair closer and sat down, taking her hands in his.

"I'm not as scared as I was. But I sort of am." Atlas muttered. "I'm scared of a lot of things that I really don't want to admit to if I'm honest. I'm scared of the usual things like going blind and have a slight problem with dolls. But I'm also scared of the future, mainly my future. All these people know what they want to do and who they want to be and I...well I just don't. I know, I know you've both said that I'm smart enough to do what I want but I don't want that. I don't want something that is accumulated through a mass of academic qualifications like you guys. I don't - I don't want that." 

"What _do_ you want?" John asked gently, rubbing his thumb over her left knuckles.

"It's silly." Atlas frowned, shaking her head. 

"Nothing's silly." John frowned.

"Okay. I want...to be...an astronomer musician consulting detective." Atlas said in precise words, and Sherlock gave a little giggle. "Its true. Although, maybe not the astronomer part...I think that and the other things is too much...but I want to be a musician."

"You have the talent, love." Sherlock smiled, rubbing her back gently.

"Yeah, but you've got to be lucky. Which is why I want to be a consulting detective and which is also why I think you need to buy Mr Chatterjee's establishment and refurbish Speedy's into "Holmes & Watson" Consulting Detecive Agency or Service or whatever."

"Hmmm. I like that idea." Sherlock grinned.

"I like Watson-Holmes with a hyphen better." John smiled. "But, Mr Chatterjee's establishment?"

"Is up for sale. On the low down, but Mrs Hudson told me." 

"How?"

"I emailed her."

"I taught her to send emails." Sherlock admitted with a light and gentle chuckle. John gave a laugh before it died in his throat.

"Atlas, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm scared too. But I'm scared _for_ you because god only knows what your future has in store for you. And..." John swallowed thickly, tears in his eyes. "I'm very scared, you won't get to have one." 

"I am too." Atlas whispered against Sherlock.

"Hey. You two." Sherlock said tight lipped. "Don't..."

"Are you scared?" Atlas asked, her lips tweaking downwards. 

"Of course I'm scared Atlas." Sherlock chided with a ferocity John had never seen before but then his features softened and he sighed, pulled her forehead to his lips and kissed it. His hands were either side of her face, her hair unruly. He rubbed a thumb over her cheek at the tear marks that still remained. "I love you and I'm going to say this to you because I never have. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I needed you and I need you in my life. Atlas, I'm so scared because aside from your papa...you are my best friend. We live in a world that is our own and you understand me in a way-" Sherlock looked to John. "And don't take this wrong John because this is one of the reasons I love you because you take me into reality." Sherlock looked back to Atlas. "You understand me in a way that no-one else can. Because...well...because.."

"Because she's you, Sherlock." John smiled, taking one hand of Sherlock's and one hand of Atlas'. 

"Because she's me." Sherlock repeated quietly, one hand still on her cheek very gently. "Your my best friend and my daughter...and I love you." There was a conteplative pause. "So of course I'm scared." He did his little head tilt that Atlas so often did as well before she leaned back against him.

There was an air of quiet. 

"You know what I miss." Atlas sighed, there was an expectant quiet before Atlas spoke again. "Walnuts."

"Walnuts?" John laughed and Atlas smirked before nodding.

"And salmon pate." Atlas murmured.

John and Sherlock laughed. 

"I miss Mrs Hudson. A lot." Atlas smiled. 

"Oh. She said she'd drop in tommorow." John said suddenly, as Atlas prompted her thought. 

"Okay. I miss Rosie..." Atlas sighed. "Like, I miss her a lot. And I miss my piano, ukulele, violin and I was getting so close with my cello and being able to afford one...uhghh...that's annoying."

"I'll buy one." John said quickly. 

"No, papa. Don't. You don't have to. They're really expensive an-"

"You want to be a musician when your older, sweetheart. You need a cello." John smiled before rubbing her hand. "When your better we'll go to _Strings_ and have a look for one, yeah?"

"I love you." There was a pause. "You know what else I miss?"

"Enlighten us?" Sherlock chuckled.

"Walking, standing and sitting without help. I didn't know that poison can do this." Atlas said quietly.

"You'll probably get some physiotherapy. But you should be okay..." There was a pause as Doctor Aduba walked into the room.

"Wanna get you walking." Doctor Aduba smiled, walking in. "Need to get you walking and sitting. It might take some time but I want to check you out before I decide how intense your physio is going to have to be."

Atlas swung her legs off the bed before looking at the doctor. "How're we doing this?" 

"If I stay here and your dad and papa help you up." Doctor Aduba smiled before Sherlock hooked an arm under her armpit, John mirroring the position on the other side.  
"Okay, on three." 

"One...Two...Three." Doctor Aduba said before Atlas found herself up on her feet and her face broke into the widest smile she ever dared to give. "Okay, Sherlock if you come stand next to me." Tentatively, Sherlock moved away, exchanging a nod with Atlas before standing in front of her.

"Okay?" John asked quietly as Atlas gave a nod.

"Better than." Atlas smiled.

Then John moved away and she was standing. On her own. But the hardest part was to come. Taking one step, she wiggled her toes and brought the other foot to join it. 

"Good." Doctor Aduba smiled. "But take it slow. Another two steps to me and your dads and then we'll stop."

"How did I manage when I had hallucinations?" Atlas asked moving a foot forward.

"You didn't. You gripped onto anything you could get a hold of and hung. Your muscles are still, unfortunately, quite weak and we are also learning whether this is because of the poison or if the poison only sped up a waiting process." Doctor Aduba said as Atlas mad where second step.

One more, one more, one-

She felt herself toppling and before she knew it she had her dad holding her up. Then he was lifting her back over to the bed and setting her down.

"I did it - ish." Atlas smiled. "I sorta did it. But I still did it." 

"You did. And I'm proud of you." Sherlock smiled before engulfing her in a hug. 

"That's actually a better sign than I was predicting. Your seizure was approximately fifty minutes ago, so your capability to walk is definitely better than I was expecting. You'll still need to complete quite rigorous therapy and wear the oxygen mask from time to time when you are finding it difficult to breathe, but it looks like things might just be on the up. You've still got quite a long road, however, you can now use the toilet. So when you need to go, press the button, a nurse will come through with a wheelchair." Doctor Aduba smiled, unmoving from his spot. "I'll be by later on this afternoon."

"Thank you." Sherlock smiled.

"Thanks." John said, also smiling. 

"Papa." Atlas frowned, looking at him critically. "Go home." 

"What? No, no, Atlas. I want to stay." John said urgently. 

"Papa." Atlas said sternly. "I didn't ask you to do any of this. The fridge will need cleaning out and Rosie and Sammy and Redbeard need to see you." There was a brief pause. "I miss Redbeard. A lot. But anyway, you should also see about going to spread your dads ashes. And speaking to the family court. Aren't your dads ashes supposed to be being spread this weekend?" 

"Atlas." John said sternly. 

"It's Sunday." Sherlock said quietly, an arm around her back.

"Yeah. So pa can still go. He shouldn't miss it. He should go. I spent so much time worrying about me and I feel really selfish and papa shouldn't miss something as big as this. It's important. Spreading ashes is important, even if you don't like someone. We did that with mum." Atlas said before looking to John. "You have to go, it's important. Stop worrying about me. You have to go."

"Atlas." John said heaving a sigh. "Can I have a hug and then I'll say my piece?" 

Nodding, Sherlock helped her again to her feet and without moving she was met by John who just held her. And he sounded like he was crying. Just little, quiet, barely audible tears but a shaking that went through his body.

"I can't go. Because I've already said I'm not. It was supposed to be today up Ben Rinnes. Apparently, when my parents lived in Moray they used to go up with dogs or something." John said through tears. "But, I told my mum I couldn't go, and then I told her the reason. And they've postponed it." 

"Okay." Atlas sniffled as he pulled away and looked at her. His arms holding her up as extra support.

"I wouldn't leave you like this." John said through tears that were still falling into his beard. He removed his glasses and handed them to Sherlock who put them on, mockingly. "I couldn't."

"I think I need to sit down now." Atlas whispered.

"Alright." John smiled before helping her down again. 

In the end, Atlas fell asleep resting against John on the bed, with her hand inside Sherlock's as he sat on a chair. His head was resting against John's stomach, his snores barely audible.

And for a moment, there was peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shite. Don't even pretend.


	43. Rosie's Drawing's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I am not a doctor. And before the diagnosis is revealed, I want to set out a disclaimer that I don't mean to do the disorder any injustice. It is a serious disorder that affects a small number of people and part of my desire to write about it is to just spread the word. I probably get all of the meanings wrong etc. but please, please, please look up FND and look into it to spread awareness. 
> 
> Again, I don't mean to do this any disservice and if you want to see someone who lives with FND, I recommend ThisTrippyHippy on YouTube. She is a wonderful person and is someone who is living with the disorder.
> 
> Final disclaimer. I don't like the words, disease, illness or disorder. They always come with a negative connotation and as someone who works closely with people - particularly those who suffer from these words of negative connotations - I do not see them as their disease.. I don't see disability. I see a person. I see them and the things that make them them. People are beautiful, no matter what world they are living in. Despite this, I still believe that it is important to recognise disabilities, mental health etc. so as to not allow ableism in this modern world. I believe in equality.
> 
> Anyway, rant over. Please continue the story, and enjoy it.
> 
> WARNINGS: Tests associated with the disorder. Speaking of mental illness.
> 
> I don't write this. 
> 
> Don't hate my opinions. I struggle to get what I mean across.

THE neurologist, Doctor Young came in that afternoon. Just before Mrs Hudson, with a sickly smile and a wide eyes. She was kind, Atlas had to admit, but she also scared her slightly. Probably not helped by the fact that Doctor Young insisted - and was right to - that Sherlock and John leave the room. Doctor Young then, helped her into the chair by her bed, and sat her down. 

Before they started, Dr Young asked Atlas to remember three words. Cave, bicycle and house. Atlas committed them to memory before Dr Young started some tests.

First was a test, that Doctor Young called Hoover's test. Painless and proved to be easy as far as Atlas could tell. Only Doctor Young frowned and wrote down something on a notepad.

The second test, was different. Dr Young, in all her glory, handed Atlas a cup of water. Uncontrollably, it shook in her hand.

"Now, Atlas." Dr Young said, brown eyes piercing hers. "I want you to focus on taking a sip from this cup of water. Can you do that for me?" 

And Atlas did, much to her surprise, manage to swallow down a gulp of water as her hand tremors momentarily subsided. Dr Young gave a little smile before flipping over the paper on her file and starting on a new page.

"Now, I have some questions I need to ask you." Dr Young smiled.

"Okay." Atlas said in return, slumping into the seat.

"Have you ever had a shaking attack before? Not a seizure, but a moment where all your limbs are shaking." Dr Young asked.

"No." Atlas replied, her voice barely a whisper.

"Okay. I have in my notes that you experience episodes of severe depression and have constant quite severe anxiety. Have you had a panic attack before?" Dr Young asked, looking at Atlas.

"Yes, yeah." Atlas coughed. 

"Sensory overload?"

"Yeah." 

"Okay then. And your short term memory. Can you remember the three things I told you at the beginning?" Dr Young asked. "I showed you pictures of them aswell."

"Cave." Atlas said before pausing. "I think there was a Cave. And a house."

"Anything else?" Dr Young asked quietly.

"No. No, not really. Was there a bicycle too?" 

"Yes. I have heard from your dads that you have a very good picture memory and not such a good audio. Thank you Miss Watson-Holmes. I'll be by in the next few days to see you with your results."

"Th-thank you." Atlas stuttered looking at Dr Young.

"Alright. Some of your symptoms are because the poison isn't out of your system and I'm going to guess and say it will be another two weeks before it starts to clear. Okay?" 

"Okay." Atlas hummed. "Thank you." 

"Alright. Do you want a hand back to the bed?" Dr Young asked, Atlas nodding before she was helped back into the bed, swinging her legs onto the bed.

"Thank you." Atlas said again. 

"I'll go get your dads." Dr Young smiled before disappearing. During the pause of quiet, Atlas pulled herself into a ball, her blue blanket pulled up to her nose and allowed herself to fall asleep.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

WHEN she woke up, she was greeted with the smiley face of Mrs Hudson who was holding her right hand in hers. Atlas gave Mrs Hudson's hand a gentle squeeze before opening her eyes and smiling.

"Mrs Hudson." Atlas smiled goofily.

"Oh Atlas." Mrs Hudson sighed, reaching out a hand to touch Atlas' forehead. Stroking at the hair, Mrs Hudson gave a watery smile and kissed her other hand. "I would have come sooner but I was with my sister and then Sherlock, bloody Sherlock, didn't tell me. And then I heard you went into cardiac arrest and I knew I had to come." There was a pause. "I would have come anyway."

"Mrs Hudson." Atlas said. "I love you." 

"I love you too." Mrs Hudson said, a tear falling from her eye. 

"How's Jem?" Atlas whispered, her breaths were becoming raspy as they sometimes were. 

"Good. Are you okay? Your seeming a little out of breath." Mrs Hudson said quietly, rubbing at her hand. 

"Yeah." Atlas rasped. "The- the mask." She pointed to the oxygen mask that was just out of reach and Mrs Hudson helped place it on her face. "It does this sometimes."

"Shhh shhh." Mrs Hudson whispered leaning in closer. "Its a horrible thing that happened to you." 

"Oh, don't worry about me." Atlas smirked. "Worry about my dad's."

"I am worried about your dads. They've had me fussing them. But, I told them to go home, have a nap and I'd sit with you. They're probably having sex right now."

"Mrs Hudson!" Atlas mockingly shouted, lifting her mask off her face, a chuckle lying underneath. Mrs Hudson gave a smile at the wide eyed teen.

"Do they know what you were poisoned with?" Mrs Hudson asked quietly.

"No." Atlas said. "But...and I haven't told my dad's because they will blame themselves...but they found the poison in some...well...some..."

"In what?" Mrs Hudson asked.

"Wh-whisky." Atlas whispered pulling off the face mask so she could speak.

"Whisky?" Mrs Hudson frowned. "Why'd you touch it?"

"Dad and papa had some to drink the night before and it was out. When I came in, they thought I had alcohol poisoning because I had alcohol in my system, but then they realised that it wasn't enough to poison me. I hardly touched it Martha. I promise. I hardly touched it. I wouldn't. I just wanted to know what it smelt like."

"Smelt like?" Mrs Hudson asked incredulously. Atlas nodded. "Then how'd you get poisoned and not your dad or your papa?" 

"Well...I...I put ice in. Like I'd seen dad do before. But he nor papa had put ice in theirs the night before, just water. They normally put it away but I think they were pretty drunk by the time they got to bed. They're jovial drunks." Atlas laughed. "So I was poisoned by the whisky which was poisoned by the ice. Papa and dad had just finished a case and they normally celebrate with some whisky so someone who knew the case was closing must've - must've done it or - or something. I don't know."

"Atlas. Listen to me. Relax." Mrs Hudson soothed. "You don't have to do the thinking. Just relax. Shhh. Just relax. And I know you hate this mask but put the bloody thing back on will you?" Mrs Hudson twittered to Atlas who obeyed her request. "Now, you listen to me Ida Atlas Elizabeth Watson-Holmes. You get better. You hear me?" There were tears in her eyes. "Don't get better for anyone, except maybe Rosie and Sammy and maybe your dad and papa and me...okay maybe everyone, but anyway, get better for you. Atlas, you are one of the bravest, coolest, smartest young people, child, gangsta I have ever met. You have to fight this to right the world. You have to fight to save the world. You have to fight to save yourself. Okay?"

"Yeah, Martha. I promise." Atlas smiled. "Did I say I love you yet?"

"Yes, yeah you did." Mrs Hudson or rather Martha smiled.

"Okay well, I'm gonna say it again. I love you." 

"And I love you too."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"JOHN?" Sammy asked coming into the living room, a smile crawling onto his face as he saw the man sitting with his husband in the living room.  
Sherlock, was sleeping, his head lolling in John's lap and the TV was blaring The Great British Bake Off.

"Hey Sam. Are you alright?" John asked Sammy came over and gave a little smile, before sitting down in a chair. 

"Yeah, yeah." He sighed as he rubbed a hand over his face. "I was wondering...if you would be alright with...well...with you guys...if...well...I think I need to see Georgia." 

"Yeah. 'Course it is." Sherlock mumbled from where he was supposedly sleeping restfully.

"Okay. I'm looking to go sorta tommorow. As soon as I can get a train or flight." Sammy smiled.

"Okay." Sherlock said, his eyes remaining shut.

"What Sherlock means to say is, we can drop you at a station or an airport, pay for your travel, look after your instruments, give you some food before you leave and we'll pick you up when you get back." John smiled. 

"I...ummm...don't think I'll be there long." Sammy frowned, standing before smiling at looking at John. "Plus, I'll want to get back for At." 

"Hey, don't rush." John said. "She'll be okay." 

"Georgia...yeah...well, anyway." Sammy said. "I'm gonna head over to the hospital with my guitar. I'll say goodbye and sit with her. That and I'll let her mind have a brain workout by helping me plan my trip." 

"Okay. Thank you. We should really come sit with her too." John smiled before reaching to shake Sherlock, but just before he could Sammy spoke.

"Don't." Sammy spoke. "I'll sit with her now. You guys can come by around nine and then I'll come back here to pack. I don't like the thought of her alone with triggers for a whole evening." 

"Triggers?" John asked furrowing his brow at Sammy.

"Yeah. For her PTSD." Sammy said quickly.

"There's some in the hospital?" John asked quickly.

"Yeah. The stuff the cleaners use mainly." Sammy sighed quietly.

"Oh, okay." John said stiffly.

"Hey. Don't blame yourself for not knowing. Atlas said that she didn't want another thing to worry you guys. I think, 'cause there is so much going wrong." Sammy sighed. He paused, an uncomfortable silence. "I think she's in a bout of depression." 

"Yeah." Sherlock sighed from John's lap. "I'd noticed. She'd covering in it with a facade. She's trying to be happy."

"She's trying to be Atlas. So that she doesn't make any of us sad. It's so infuriating but it's so-so _her."_ Sammy paused. "She's trying to protect us when we need to protect her." 

"We can't protect her." John sighed, a hand running over his mouth. "And that's the impossibly difficult fact."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SAMMY'S guitar was a pleasant change to the sounds of hurting people who's brains were falling apart. Of families losing children. Of people losing their loved ones. Sammy's guitar cut through the pain and made it into something Atlas deemed somewhat beautiful. 

He was singing now, in his pretty singing voice that could light up a whole room and Atlas, her mind a whirlwind, found herself calmed. Safe.

When he finished he looked at Atlas with a saddness in his eyes.

"I have to go see Georgia." Sammy frowned and Atlas nodded, her hand reaching out to take his. The oxygen mask sat a little wonky on her face and reaching out a kind, gentle hand to right it. "How long have you had the mask on for?"

"Since Mrs Hudson left." Atlas signed, her hands shaking as she tried to manipulate them.

"Okay." Sammy smiled back, before looking at her. "I don't really want to leave you, Atlas."

"You have to." Atlas signed again. "She's your sister." 

"Atlas, _your_ my sister. I love you." Sammy said quietly, tears in his eyes. 

"I love you too." Atlas signed as she beckoned for him to come a little closer. He lay down next to her, his face opposite hers and she looked at him. 

"I love you. And I'm afraid that while I'm here, Georgia is going to die. And while I'm there, your going to die. And it's wrong, but I'm more scared of you dying." Sammy said, closing his eyes and letting a tear track down his face.

"Sammy." Atlas whispered. "I'm going to fight this."

"I know." Sammy comforted. "I know."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"MYCROFT?" John asked concerned into the phone. It was unusual for the man to ring him at the best of times but it was even more concerning at this time.

"Hello." The voice came on the other side of the line. It was Eurus, quiet and timid yet undoubtedly a wonderful person. John shuffled in his seat on the sofa and glanced at the clock, about an hour till they would be heading off to see Atlas and sit with her through the evening. 

"Hello Eurus. Is everything alright?" John asked as Sherlock grumbled about something from where his head was still resting on his husband's lap, finger pushing the TV remote mute button.

"Ehh, well, yes...sort of." Eurus stammered through the phone as John looked down at Sherlock who was opening and closing for his fist in request for the phone.

"What's up?" Sherlock asked gently after retrieving the phone and sitting up on the sofa.

"It's Rosie." Eurus admitted. "I didn't want to tell John, but we can't get her down to sleep. She keeps saying she has something for Atlas. I said that me and Mycroft would take her tomorrow but she keeps saying it over and over." There was a pause. "I'm really worried Sherlock." 

"Alright. Bring her over and me and John will take her over to the hospital this evening." Sherlock said quietly before hanging up the phone and turning to look at John. "Eurus is bringing Rosie over." 

"Is she ok?" John asked urgently. "Is she alright?"

"They can't get her down to sleep. She says she has something for Atlas but won't show them what it is." Sherlock sighed rubbing his hands over his face. "Twenty two minutes."

"Huh?" John asked, his rigid position now falling against the back of the sofa.

"That's how long it will take."

"Just enough time for a round four then." John smirked.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE doorbell went just as Sherlock had gone to the loo and John got to his feet. Making his way into the lobby he saw Eurus opening the door and Rosie, sucking her bottom lip under her top teeth. Rosie walked in with a unfolded A4 picture in one hand, Jeff in the other and John put a hand on top of her head before nodding to Eurus as the quiet woman took her leave.

Rosie went into the kitchen and stood looking at the fridge quizzically. 

"Right then miss." John said coming into the kitchen and squatting down infront of her. "What's this drawing?" He gestured to the piece of paper in her hand with a smile. But then Rosie's little facade began to break and her light blue jacket arm - which was so like Atlas and Sherlock's - was drawn up to hide her eyes. Her lips parted in a young child cry and she found herself crying into her arm, Jeff falling to the floor. John collected Jeff and placed him on the kitchen cabinet before going back down to her, wrapping his arms around her, being careful not to crinkle the picture. Lifting her off the ground, she begin to cry child like sobs, shrieking into John's shoulder.

"Oh sweetheart." John whispered into her ear, rubbing her back under a widespread hand. She was, in reality, too old to be lifted, but her frame was small and light and John couldn't do anything to help her pain. "It's ok."

"Hey, hey, hey." Sherlock said coming into the kitchen, he came to stand by John's side and kissed Rosie's temple. "May I?" He asked taking hold of the picture and Rosie's crying subsided enough for her to nod. He looked at the picture and studied the drawing on the paper. He smiled when his eyes tracked the picture and saw that there was a depiction of a body, drawn in black all outlined in blue. There were yellow squares around the body and Sherlock gave a smile. "She'll love it, sweetheart." 

Rosie only continued to cry and John moved to collect Jeff and give him to her. "You start school soon." John said, bouncing against her front but that only made her cry harder.

"I don't want to go. I want to stay at home. I want to see Atlas. I want to-" Rosie cried whilst John continued to do his best attempt at reducing her painful cries. 

"How's about we all go change into some really comfortable clothing, get some walnuts or popcorn, put on fluffy socks, get some blankets and head over to the hospital?" Sherlock smiled. "Atlas is getting a little better but I think the most she'll be up to is watching a movie. We can all sit onto the bed and we'll watch something, yeah?" Rosie nodded with a frown growing ad she reached out an arm to her dad. Sherlock gathered her from John and held her a moment before they all went off to get the various things they required.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"PAPA?" Atlas asked, her eyes partially closed. "Dad?" Her voice was muffled by the oxygen mask, still sitting over her nose and mouth.

"Right here, love." John said, reaching out a hand to flow it through her hair. "Dad is too." 

"I realised something." Atlas said, lifting her mask to speak, only to have Sherlock gently guide her hand back down and complete some sign language with her. "You guys make my life worth living." She signed, Sherlock translating aloud for John. "Before I came to 221B back in October, and no offence dad, but I had no one to stay alive for. Well, except for myself. You wouldn't have known if I had killed myself right then and there, you wouldn't have. But now, now that I have dads I have a sister, a best friend who is more like a brother, two other best friends, Hale as my friend, Greg, Molly, two grandma's and a grandad, two aunt's, an uncle, the list goes on and suddenly, I don't want to be dead. Because I have more reason to be alive." She paused to look at Sherlock as he finished off repeating what she had signed. "But I also want to live for myself." 

"That's good." John said with a soft smile before Atlas' eyes caught sight of Rosie.

"Rosie." She strained. "Ro, Rosie." Removing her mask she tossed it to one side and began an attempt to sit up. Sherlock sat down on the bed and gathered her into him. He nodded to John who lifted Rosie around the other side. Atlas was shuffled onto one side of Sherlock, her legs discarded to one side as John and Rosie squeezed onto the mattress beside them. 

And the movie began.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

WHEN the movie finished, Sherlock and John were pleasantly surprised to find Atlas and Rosie huddled against each other and they both moved off the bed. Carefully, they seated themselves on the sofa and began a peaceful sleep.

That's what Sammy saw when he walked in. He himself then wrapped his blanket around him and huddled into a bedside chair.

And that's how Atlas saw him when she woke up around about two am. Reaching her arm over, careful not to disturb Rosie, she prodded him and he awoke.

"Yeah?" He asked dazed before opening his eyes wider. "You ok?" 

"I'm ok." Atlas said before sniffing. "Slip in behind Rosie, it'll be more comfortable."

"Ok. I love you guys." Sammy frowned. "I don't want to go." 

"I don't want you to go." Atlas whispered. "But you have to. You have to see Georgia."

"I don't want to go." Sammy frowned before letting out a little cry.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Atlas whispered before Rosie blinked her eyes open and rolled over to look at Sammy. 

"She's going to die." Sammy sobbed. "I kept hoping something would change but...but she's going to die...and I don't want to see her like that." 

"Sammy." Rosie said before she wrapped her little arms around his shaking frame. "I love you. You need to see Georgia but...will you come home?"

"Rosie. Rosewood Cottage is our home...but it's not Sammy's." Atlas corrected quietly.

"It is." Sammy interrupted. "It's my home. And you guys are my family and John and Sherlock are my dads." And then he put a hand over his mouth like he'd said something wrong.

"Don't be embarrassed, Sam." Atlas smiled. "You are a part of our family." 

"We love you." Rosie smiled. 

"Forever and always." Atlas said quietly.

"No matter what." Sammy finished.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN and Sherlock woke the next morning to see the trio gathered in the bed, snoozing. 

"Look at that." Sherlock smiled looking at John before he frowned. "I want to adopt him."

"Wh-what?" John asked quietly, looking at his husband.

"Or co-parent." Sherlock said quickly.

"We'll talk to Leanne...but Sherlock...we probably can't." John said putting an arm around the other man's shoulders. "He needs to be getting a move on." Sherlock stood and rubbed at Sammy's shoulder. Slowly, the young boy turned over and looked at Sherlock. 

"It's time to go." Sherlock smiled as he put a hand to Sammy's back and rubbed. 

"Can I...I...well...I called Rosewood...well I called it home...Can I...even if my mum comes home and I can go back, back to Jekyll Avenue...I...Can...Could I stay at Rosewood Cottage?" Sammy asked, refusing to look at John and Sherlock. There was a pause of silence. "Sorry...sorry...your a family I shouldn't have asked...that was innapp-"

"Come here." Sherlock smiled as Sammy stood with a sigh and the tall man engulfed the young boy. For he was that. Still a young boy who had so much to do and say. "Welcome to our family. If you want to join us."

"Are you sure?" Sammy asked. "I can live on my own but I don't know if I want to. And I could live on Jekyll Avenue but I'm not sure if I can without Georgia so that's why I want to be here. Well not here but at home with my other sisters...and well...you guys." 

John gave a laugh and kissed Sammy's temple. "Right, let's go get in the car and I'll drive you to the station." 

"Okay. Tell them I love them." Sammy said as he followed John out the door but just before he left he spoke. "Oh and Sherlock." 

Sherlock looked up from where he had sat in a chair. "I love you." Sammy smiled from the door.

"I love you too." Sherlock smiled back before the young boy collected his 40L rucksack and left to follow John.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"RIGHT." John smiled looking at Sammy who had his rucksack slung over his shoulder. "Tickets?" Sammy produced the tickets and flashed them. "Money?" Sammy showed his wallet with a smile. "Phone?" 

"I'll text you, no, I'll ring you as soon as I get there." Sammy smiled, finding himself completely content with his new life. His new self. With his family. 

"Alright." John smiled.

"And I'll facetime Atlas. And could you maybe send through the things the doctors say. And then keep me updated on how you all are and obviously on she is." Sammy said, all his words running out in one go. 

"Of course we will." John said before dragging the teenager into a hug. "Alright, be safe, message us or ring us and come home as soon or as late as you need. Your home is with us. We obviously need to speak with your mum and work out the guardianship but, if you'll have us, come home."

"I'll come home." Sammy smiled. "I'll come home." He sighed. "I've got to go." Sammy rubbed his nose into John's shoulder and smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too." John said pulling away and putting his hands on either side of the teens face. "Now, go see your sister."

"My other sister." Sammy shouted as he ran and hopped onto the train. It pulled out and John just watched. And he thought about the boy who was about to see one of the horrors of life.

And then John remembered, that to Sammy, Rosewood was _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go on. Kill me.


	44. I Know I'm Ok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is creepy.
> 
> Newra.

ATLAS slept on through the following morning, right until lunchtime. When she woke, she fumbled around for Rosie and entered a mild panic when she couldn't find her. 

"Atlas, Atlas." A kind voice was saying, yet Atlas couldn't place it. "Atlas."

"Rosie?" Atlas asked straining against the covers, trying to grab a hold of something. Her eyes were wide and her pupils dilated. 

"Atlas. My name is Amy, I am from the family Court." The lady smiled and suddenly she came into view.

"Rosie?" Atlas asked again before she saw Dr Aduba, who took a seat in a chair by the bed as Amy moved. The pretty woman sat on the bed by Atlas' knees.  
Dr Aduba spoke. "Rosie and your dads are grabbing some lunch, they won't be long. Now I need you to stay calm for me and listen to what Amy here, has to say. Push the anxieties away and the panic, because it's good news."

"Normally," Amy began, flipping through a file. "We would be required to do this in a court, but unfortunately you have ended up in this position. I have gone through all the necessary proceeds and all the things necessary..." She paused. "Dr Aduba, I don't suppose you could find Dr Watson-Holmes. Only I want him here for this bit aswell." Dr Aduba nodded before disappearing.

"Your very pretty." Atlas remarked, looking at her softly. Tight black curls complemented her skin tone, with beautiful dark eyes. 

"Thank you." Amy smiled. "I think you are pretty too."

"Thank you." Atlas laughed. "For doing this even though I know it's out of the lengths you should go for the people who come through the court."

"Your a unique case. And that first day, I was supposed to come here and tell you that you had to file another report." Amy said.

"Why didn't you?" Atlas asked, curiously.

"Because," Amy started. "Because I saw just how ill you were and I saw how much comfort John or rather your papa brought you. And I thought, I'm going to do everything I can."

"Well, thank you." Atlas said, just as John came in the room and sat down on a chair by the side of the bed.

"So, I have looked at all the necessities and I have worked on this with a colleague. We understand the urgency of your request and we understand the importance. You two are, without a shadow of a doubt, a father and a daughter." Amy said, as John reached out a hand and took Atlas' in his own. "So therefore, I can congratulate you today on the official adoption of Ida Atlas Elizabeth _Watson-Holmes."_ She handed over the certificate just as Sherlock and Rosie came into the room and Atlas hugged John tightly, her body resting against his. 

"On another front," Atlas said through tears. "I can sit up now." 

"I'd noticed," Sherlock said as he sat down on another chair. He leaned against John's shoulder with a goofy smile as Atlas giggled.

"I think I'm going to go back to sleep." Atlas said before she lay back down on the bed, her head tilted slightly to one side.

"Do you want me to sit with you?" John asked and when Atlas nodded he moved around to the other side, hopped onto the bed and began brushing her hair out of her eyes. As she was lying flat, her hand tracked along the mattress until she found her dads hand and she held it against her stomach before falling asleep.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

AT approximately 2:30pm Mycroft and Eurus arrived in through the door to the private room and sat down. Atlas was still lying against John, snoozing. 

"Oh, sorry." Wanda said as she followed the others in with Timothy. Her eyes glanced off Atlas and caught sight of Rosie who was ambling into Mycroft's lap. 

"It's fine." Atlas gurgled as she awoke from her sleep but stayed fixed to John and his shoulder. 

"Hello." Timothy smiled as he came over to the bed and kissed her forehead. 

"I missed you." Atlas whispered to Timothy quietly. "I love you." 

"I love you too." Timothy smiled, rubbing her cheek before sitting in a seat. A moment later and Harry appeared, with her mum close on her heels.  
Slowly, Atlas wheezed against John, a slight cough concealed. John rubbed against her back and hummed to her. He looked up to his mother with a slight smile. Atlas wheezed again a moment later and John rubbed her back again. 

"Do you need the-" But he found himself cut off by Atlas' unsteady coughing. He slipped the oxygen mask over her face before she shuffled back against him.

The family watched on quietly as the young girls body sagged against John's, a protective arm snaking around her shoulder, a firm thumb rubbing through the fabric of the jumper she's refused to take off. "Sorry." Atlas signed to Sherlock who shook his head and looked at her.

"What's she saying?" Harry asked watching as Sherlock's face fall.

"She said sorry." Sherlock sighed before shuffling forwards in his seat and taking her hand. "Don't say sorry. It's nothing you can help and don't say sorry. I don't want you to." But she'd already fallen asleep and sighing, Sherlock's head went to his hands. He could be heard taking a deep breath before Rosie walked over and put her little arms around his form. Gathering her into his lap, he gave a little smile, and was seen to almost immediately relax. A state of comfort.

"Do you want Jeff?" Rosie asked, holding out Jeff to Sherlock who looked at her. "Jeff always makes me happy when I'm sad." 

"I'm alright, thank you Rosie." Sherlock smiled, admiration shining in his eyes as Rosie shifted in his lap. Tucking her knees under herself she rested her chest and stomach up Sherlock's front with her temple resting just below his chin. 

"That's good." Rosie said, shuffling again but finding her footing. "I think I need Jeff." 

"Ok." Sherlock whispered a hand on the side of her head. "It'll be ok." 

"Ok?" Rosie said turning her head to face the wall. Sherlock's hands repositioned to rest against her back and the crown of her head. 

"Ok." Sherlock whispered against her hair before kissing and sitting back a little, his hands remaining where they were.

"So, me and Sherlock have some news." John said from where he was sitting on the bed. "As of today, Atlas is..." He paused not quite able to believe that it was true. "Well, she's my daughter...but we all know that...but the difference is that it's official." John smiled as Atlas shuffled to lie properly against him, an arm over his stomach. 

"Oh congratulations." Wanda smiled, bustling over with an enormous smile and hugging John over Atlas' head. 

"Thank you." John smiled as he looked round the room and saw lots of nods of acceptance and broad smiles. Even Mycroft took the time to smile. "And we are also going to have Sammy staying with us when he gets home. As his wish. We need to sort things out with his mum, but Georgia is...well...we all know the answer to that, so he has expressed a wish to live with us. And we have said yes."

"He's a lovely young man." Timothy smiled. 

"He is that." Mycroft smiled with a grin before it fell and he regained his composure.

"I like him." Eurus smiled. 

"He's been approved by Eurus. What an achievement." Sherlock said sarcastically with a smile and Eurus smirked, leaning against him. They launched into a little bit of a giggle, remaining quiet with mind of Atlas sleeping. 

"So, how have you all been?" Sherlock asked with a smile, the facade making its way effectively across his face again. 

"Well."  
"Alright."  
"Good."  
"Ok."

And then there was awkward silence.  
"How's Atlas been?" Timothy asked with a familiar smile. 

"She has good days and she has bad days. She has days where she can breathe and days where she is choking on the air around us. Days where she hallucinates, days where everything is too real. Days where she goes through episodes of PTSD and days where she doesn't." Sherlock said, reciting it as if it were an old, worn poem that had started to fade in the light. 

"And sometimes she goes to sleep." Sherlock started again. "And I know it's stupid and silly, but I worry if she's going to wake up again." 

"It's not stupid and silly, Sherlock." Wanda smiled, looking at him, and Sherlock nodded once before looking down at Rosie and then over to John.  
"You know, she looks just like she did when she was born." Sherlock said looking over to Atlas with a small smile. "She looks so small."

"She does." John smiled, stroking her hair softly. "Can someone sit with her? I need the loo."

"I can." Wanda smiled as she got to her feet and made her way over to the bed, sitting down. Atlas opened her eyes momentarily but they soon flickered shut again. And then Wanda began to sing. 

All three of the siblings recognised it, whilst Harry and Jo listened to it with new ears.

Eurus remembered it as a sentimental lullaby. 

Mycroft remembered it as the song his mother would sing while she baked or cooked.

And Sherlock remembered it as a song that made him calm down. Relax.

And then Mycroft joined in. His singing voice better than anyone else ever anticipated. Shutting his eyes, he blocked out the looks he anticipated he would receive. 

And then Eurus joined the song, quietly.

And then Sherlock did, rocking Rosie gently. She shuffled against him but smiled in her sleep. 

The quartet joined with Timothy as they sang together.

And then the lullaby came to an end.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS was throwing up at 3:30am, her stomach kept twisting and contracting at an uncomfortable pace. Her face went bright red and flushed whilst her body shook. A vice gripped her brain and squeezed it tightly as she threw up another round. All guests had previously departed and now Atlas found herself vomiting again. 

"I'm sorry." Atlas said after she put the basin to one side which was quickly picked up by the nurse. She then collected her blanket around her and tucked herself in on herself.

"Don't say sorry." Sherlock said with a gentle smile. 

"Are you feeling cold?" Dr Aduba said as he looked at her shivering under her blanket. Her eyes were wide and she felt so tired. Atlas gave a miserable nod, trying to choke back the tears that were trying to fight their way to the front. He then took her temperature which was in truth spiking as she had another basin shoved under her chin, throwing up again. 

"Ok, Atlas." Sherlock whispered quietly. 

"My tummy hurts." Atlas whispered looking at Doctor Aduba. "It feels like cramp but all over." Atlas gave a sob before she let the tears fall and fall and fall and she gripped onto John's hand so tight he thought it was going to fall off. She threw up again and again and again until she was just dry heaving and sobbing.

"Ok, ok." Sherlock had said throughout, now pressing her head to his chest when she finally finished. Her mind kept blanking - or rather she kept having seizures - and soon enough she was being pushed into a wheelchair again, just like the first night. Only this time she saw Eurus when she got there, who wordlessly helped her out of her clothing and into the shower chair. She stayed whilst the two nurses cleaned Atlas down, before Eurus helped her back into her clothing. 

"Eurus?" Atlas asked quietly.

"Yes, it's me." Eurus said with smile as she helped Atlas pull on a jumper. "Your ok."

"I'm tired." Atlas said quietly. 

"I know." Eurus smiled. "But you need to stay awake a little while, and then we'll go back to your room and I can sit with you."

"How'd you get here so soon?" Atlas whispered.

"They rang me. Sherlock was...well...upset." Eurus smiled. "I sent both your dad and papa home and said that me and Mycroft would look after you." 

"Ok." Atlas frowned. "That's good. I don't want them to be upset."

"Of course they're upset." Eurus scolded as they made their way into the hallway, Atlas in a wheelchair.

"I just don't...well...I..." Atlas started from her chair. "I'm so cold."

"Yeah. Your running a temperature." Dr Aduba smiled. "Are you aware you keep having seizures?"

"Yes...no, no I don't." Atlas said flustered and they stopped the wheelchair. "I don't know...I'm not..."

"Atlas. It's ok. Listen to me," Eurus squatted down by her knees and held them. "Atlas, sweetheart, listen to me. Your ok."

"I'm not ok. I'm scared, Eurus...I'm so afraid." Atlas said with a frown her breathing increasing.

"Shh, shhh. Atlas, breathe. I know, I know." Eurus comforted. 

"I want to go home." Atlas whispered a she took another sharp, harrowing breath.

"I know." Eurus complained. "I know. Let's get back to your room and then you can go to sleep or maybe, we can play a game?"

"Yes. Ok. Mycroft?" Atlas asked.

"Yes. You and me can be in a team against Mycroft. He wanted to see you." Eurus smiled as they mad their way into her room. Helping her stand, Mycroft found himself engulfed in a truly unpredicted hug. 

"I love you." Atlas whispered, Mycroft pulled away and looked at her, with gentle hands either side of her face. 

"And I love you too." Mycroft smiled softly holding her up as she began to sag.

"What time is it?" Atlas yawned as Mycroft lowered her onto the bed.

"Eight am. We arrived around about six which is when they took you to the shower block." Mycroft explained as he pulled up a chair and sat down. He held her hands in his own as she stayed sat. Rubbing gently Atlas gave a small smile, as Mycroft pulled her forehead to his lips and kissed gently. "Oh Ida."

"Uncle Mycroft." Atlas whimpered, leaning into Mycroft again. 

"Right here." Mycroft comforted. "Me and Eurus are right here. Your ok."

Atlas looked at him with piercing blue eyes.

"Alright, blue eyes. What game do you want go play?" Mycroft asked gently. "We have 'Scrabble' and 'The Logo Board Game' and we also have 'Trivial Pursuit.'" He gave a weak smile. 

"Scrabble." Atlas answered before Eurus hopped onto the bed next to her and they sat opposite Mycroft, who pulled the hospital table between them. Atlas rested her head against Eurus before they began the game.

Halfway through, Eurus snaked an arm around Atlas' shoulder and rubbed it gently. With a hidden smile, Atlas rubbed her nose against Eurus' shoulder.

"Have you had enough?" Eurus asked wordlessly before Atlas gave a nod and they tidied up the game. 

"Aunty Eurus?" Atlas asked quietly.

"Yes?" Eurus asked quickly and quietly.

"Can...I mean...would...you don't have to..." Atlas looked to Mycroft. "I don't...I don't suppose you would both read to me? Don't feel like-"

"It would be an honour." Mycroft smiled as he sat in a chair by the bedside. He opened "Midnight's Children" by Salman Rushdie and began.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ATLAS." Mycroft said, his voice scraping against her skull. "Are you ok?" It scraped again and Atlas blinked her eyes open. "You've got some blood around your mouth and your shivering." 

"I'm feeling really sick." Atlas said as she sat up. "And my head is absolutely pounding." She complained as she put a hand to her lips and saw the blood when she retracted her hand. There was a pause. "I think I'm going to throw up." 

"Ok." Eurus said as she picked up a basin and shoved it against her stomach. "Ok." The next thing she knew, she was violently retching, yet bringing up nothing. 

"Oh Ida." Mycroft said again, tucking a loose strand of hair, neatly behind her ear. She retched again and this time, this time she threw up some food particles and there was red. Red in her sick and she felt chills fight their way through his body. 

"Doctor Aduba." Eurus said loudly, attempting to catch the attention of the man on the other side of the room. "Doctor Aduba!"

"Yep?" He asked popping his head into the room.

"She's got blood in her vomit." Mycroft said concerned as the doctor instantly came over. The man frowned, before putting a stethoscope to her chest. 

"She's been vomiting quite a lot." Doctor Aduba clarified. "I think we need to do a gastroscopy." 

"I'm assuming we don't yet have the full details on where the poison came fr-" Mycroft started.

"Whisky." Atlas replied sharply. "It came from the whisky."

"Atlas, have you told anyone?" Doctor Aduba frowned as Atlas shook her head.

"Only Mrs Hudson." Atlas remarked before looking at her blanket. "My dads will blame themselves."

"Oh." Mycroft replied. "How'd it get into your system?"

"An experiment. My dad and papa had been on a case the night before and came home and drank whisky and left the bottle out. I wanted to see if tasted the same as it smelt. And I put ice in it and the poison, well it was in the ice. Dad and papa normally take ice so that's what I did and well..."

"Yeah." Mycroft smiled. "Okay. I've got people working on it, including Lestrade and Miss Hooper, although I tried to persuade her that she needn't worry." There was a pause. "She can be remarkably persuasive."

"Doctor Aduba?" Atlas asked quietly.

"Yes?" Doctor Aduba smiled before Eurus took his hand. 

"When can I go home?" Atlas asked quietly.

"It will be a minimum of another two weeks, but with this blood in your vomit...we don't know." Dr Aduba frowned before he turned on his heel and left with the basin.

As soon as he was out of view, Atlas put her head in her hands and let out a large sob.

"Oh, Ida." Mycroft said sitting on the bed and gathering her into his arms. He rubbed her back gently yet firmly and kissed her temple. 

"I just want it to all be over." Atlas sobbed into her hands.

"I know. I know." Mycroft whispered.

"I'm so...I can't..." Atlas cried.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh." Mycroft whispered as he continued to hold her and rub her back. "My little Ida." 

"My uncle Myc." Atlas cried.

"Yes." Mycroft replied. "I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"MUM." Sammy started, sitting down on a chair. He sighed, put on his bowler had and smiled weakly.

"Yes?" She asked sighing over her coffee cup.

"I want to do something. And you need to do something for me." Sammy said, taking up her hands, her eyes constantly avoiding his own. "Either go live with Auntie Pol or go to a rehabilitation unit." 

"What?" She asked sharply. "Sammy, why in gods name would I do that?" 

"Because, you have to and you will be in that danger zone after the inevitable happens and because what I'm about to tell you is something I want, but not something you will." Sammy said quietly, there was a brief pause. "I want to," he inhaled and coughed sharply. "Live with Atlas."

"What?" Leanne asked, sitting back in her seat and scoffing.

"I want to live with Atlas and Rosie and Redbeard and Sherlock and I've wanted to for months. Before Georgia had cancer, before Atlas was ill." Sammy said exasperatedly. "Mum, I love you and I love Georgia but I don't love the street on which we live and I want to live at home."

"Sammy?" Leanne asked, betrayal in her eyes.

"You need help, mum." Sammy smiled. "And I want to live with them and I know now that you don't want me to but I want to live with Sherlock and John." He paused. "I want to live with them."

"Is it because they're gay?" Leanne asked quickly. "And that means they'll understand every issue you go through? All the pain? Is that why you want to live with them? Because they'll understand you?"

"Because I love them. All of them." Sammy sighed, looking at the wooden table.

"And what? You don't love me?" Leanne asked. 

"No." Sammy said, taking her hands into his. "I love you so much that this hurts like no other pain. I'm doing this because I love you and because you need time to think about you. I know about the alcohol...and I know about the men and...well...everything else." He frowned.

"Alright. If it's what you want." Leanne said, leaning back in her chair.

"You'll still be there to see me get married and whatever." Sammy giggled and Leanne did too.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

GEORGIA'S pale face let go of the edges of the world. Her eyes went cloudy, her fingers limp. Her body lifeless on the bed and Sammy waited and found himself completely...

At peace. 

This day had been coming for a month. It was going to happen.

It was inevitable.

Death is inevitable.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SAMMY?" John said over the phone line. 

"John." Sammy cried on the other side of the line, his finger nails bitten down to the quicks.

"Hey," John said into the phone. The older man had pulled himself out of bed and was now sitting on the edge of it. Sherlock stirred momentarily and wearily - as they were all the time at the moment - he moved over the bed to sit behind John, wrap his arms around his torso and lie his cheek against his back.

"John," Sammy sobbed again.

"I'm here." John said quietly, knowing that right now Sammy just needed someone to sit with him. "Where's your mum?"

"Probably hitting the bottle. Don't know if you'd guessed but it seems that as of late, she has been hitting it a lot." Sammy managed between sobs. "She's dead. Georgia's dead. She died."

"I know," John comforted. "Would you like to video call?"

"It's late." Sammy said, sniffing. "You don't have to." 

"I want to," Sherlock rumbled before untangling himself from John to sit next to him instead. They disconnected the call and hit the button for video call and Sammy picked up. He looked a mess and was seemingly in a hotel room, huddled up in a sofa chair. 

"Hey," John smiled. "When do you want to come home?"

"Can- I want to- Now." Sammy laughed through his tears.  
"Okay. Plane or train?" Sherlock asked quietly, his curls popping into view and he was smiling?

"Train." Sammy replied. "I'll look some up now." 

"No you won't," Sherlock smiled as his head dropped as he seemingly looked on Trainline. "There's one leaving in about an hour and a half and it will get into London just after midnight. It's one of the speedy trains if you think you can get to it."

"Yeah, yeah, I want to come home." Sammy smiled before he shuffled. "I don't know what to do about Leanne."

"You could leave her a text." John suggested. 

"There isn't another train till five am." Sherlock sighed.

"If you don't mind picking me up. I'll grab some food and pack it and hop on the train." Sammy said with a smile. 

"I'll buy the tickets and send you through the code." Sherlock said with a weak smile before going through all the necessary trips. "Me or John will be at the station to pick you up, alright?"

"Thank you," Sammy said quietly. "How's Atlas?" 

"She's been ok. We left her with Mycroft and Eurus for today." John smiled. "Still the same as yesterday."

"Ok." Sammy smiled. "Rosie?"

"Missing Atlas and you." John said quietly. 

"I'll be home. I should probably go get ready to get on the train." Sammy said, his voice hinting in excitement. "And my mum has said yes but...I think we'll need to speak to social services." 

"We'll worry about all that when you get back. It should be okay because both me and Sherlock have been approved for adoption with the girls so we should be allowed to be carers for you, should that be what you choose. You are seventeen so you can always live alone." John said with a shining smile.

"Oh." Sammy said quietly, his head dipped.

"Hey," Sherlock said. "Sammy, that doesn't mean we don't want you to stay with us. We do. We...well we love you."

"I love you guys too." Sammy laughed. "Bye." 

"Bye." John and Sherlock said in unison before hanging up. John got to his feet and was about to leave the room when Sherlock's phone rang.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock asked urgently into the phone, putting it on loudspeaker.

"Nope, Eurus." Eurus said quietly.

"Is everything ok?" Sherlock asked urgently, putting his phone on speaker.

"She said not to ring you but I had to. Sherlock, Atlas is going into surgery." Eurus said quietly.

"Surgery?" Sherlock asked immediately, as his eyes found John's face.

"Yes. She had blood in her sick and they did a gastroscopy. She's scheduled for ten o'clock tonight." Eurus said. 

"Ok." Sherlock sighed. "What's wrong?"

"They found a tear in her oesophagus." Eurus replied. "She's ok, they've put her under a sedative for the time being." 

"Ok, ok. I'm c-coming." Sherlock stuttered, his eyes welling up. "We-We're coming." He grabbed John's hand into his own as the older man came to sit down. As soon as he hung up, John looked over to see Sherlock bowing his head between his knees and breathing heavily. Inhaling and exhaling in an unsteady, cautious rhythm.

"Atlas." John said quietly. "We're going to go to her. And we are going to love her. And then we are going to wait for her to come out of surgery." He rubbed at Sherlock's back with a firm hand. "And then we're going to pick up our other two children and take them to see their sister." Sherlock nodded, with a frown.  
"Ok, just breathe." He paused. "Your ok."

"I'm not." Sherlock sobbed, before John got up off the bed and knelt before him.

"No, your not." John sighed putting his small, yet strong hands over Sherlock's ears, thumbs resting on his cheeks. "But _that's_ ok."

"John." Sherlock whispered. 

"Right here." 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say that."

"I mean it."

"Alright. I forgive you for whatever it is your apologising for. But if your apologising about this, don't you dare." John said rubbing with his thumbs. "Your allowed to be upset."

"I'm not. I have to be brave for her." Sherlock said quietly.

"Shhh. You don't, Sherlock." John said, his fingers brushing the back of the younger man's neck. "Or at least, you don't have to do all the bravery on your own. That's why I'm here. That and because I love you."

"I love you too, you know." Sherlock said with a little smile.

"I know." John said with a smile. "You taught me that I'm capable of it."

"And that your bi." Sherlock laughed before John wrapped his arms around the younger man's shoulders. 

"And that I'm bi." John smiled. "We have to be brave together but I can't be brave without you. You make me brave Sherlock Watson-Holmes." 

Sherlock nodded with a face streaked in tears, looking up to meet John's eyes.

"And you make me...so happy, John Watson-Holmes. And you make me brave, and so, wonderfully, wonderfully happy." Sherlock smiled. "And I need go tell you that, I could never - can never live without you." 

"I can't live without you either. But I also can't live without our children and seeing as one of our daughters is about to go into a serious surgery. Shall we go to her?" John said with a small smile. 

"Yeah, yeah I want to go." Sherlock said getting to his feet before stopping and offering out his arms. Slowly, John stepped into his arms or rather, Sherlock, melted into John. 

"Together. We're in all of this...together." John said with an ear to ear smile that was brilliant and bright. "As husbands."

"As husbands." Sherlock repeated. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS felt remarkably lucky when she woke up. There, by her bedside, she saw her dads and Sammy and Rosie and she was attempting to smile. She was very much fixed in her bed, unable to move and her side was painful. 

"Hey," Sherlock said with a smile, his hand going to her forehead. She opened her mouth to speak but he shushed her. "Shhh, don't speak, sweetheart." He paused. "Are you in pain?"

Atlas gave a nod. 

"I'll go get Doctor Aduba." John said with a smile.

And whilst Sherlock watched he was transported back to the day she was born.

•••

_Sherlock was sat by Mary-Anne's bedside as she lay on the bed. Her head tossing side to side as she pushed and the baby began to crown._

_"That's it, that's it." The midwife said with a smile as Mary-Anne released from the push. "The baby's just starting to appear. It won't be long till you get to meet him or her."_

_Sherlock was practically vibrating in excitement as he squeezed Mary-Anne's hand tightly._

_"When you feel the next contraction, push. Okay?" The midwife said with a smile and Mary-Anne looked at Sherlock with a ferocity before nodding quickly._

_With a guttural scream, Mary-Anne pushed and the head came out with a pop._

_"Alright, Mary-Anne, you need to listen to me." The midwife said. "When you feel the next contraction, do not push. Just pant." A doctor swooped into the room and observed over the midwife's shoulder as she carefully unwrapped the cord from around the baby's neck. When the contraction came, Mary-Anne did as she was told before relaxing at the end of it._

_"That's it." Sherlock gave a huge smile. "You can do it."_

_"Alright, you can push now." The doctor said, sitting down at the end of the bed between Mary-Anne's legs. "That's it, that's it."_

_And suddenly with a sudden whoosh, the baby came out._

_"Congratulations, you have a girl." The midwife said before the doctor got to his feet and disappeared off to the side of the room. He began rubbing her back, hoping to get her to breathe, her lips blue._

_"Is she ok?" Sherlock asked urgently. "Is-is she ok?"_

_"Mr Holmes." The midwife said with a smile. "Your daughter is experiencing some problems with breathing and her body temp is a little low for our liking, also, as you know she's very early and so she's going to need a little bit of care here in the hospital. You'll be welcome to visit but until we assess her, you can't touch her."_

_"Not our daughter." Mary-Anne said sharply._

_"I'm sorry?" The midwife asked urgently._

_"We're putting her up for adoption."_

_"What?" Sherlock asked urgently. "No, no we're not."_

_"Sherlock." Mary-Anne said sternly._

_"No!" Sherlock exclaimed. "We have a daughter. I have a daughter. I'm keeping her."_

_•••_

_"Oh, little Atlas." Sherlock cooed to the child who was sleeping in his arms. He was sitting in his Edinburgh flat, with his wife off god knows where. She remarkably resembled Petal from 'The Shipping News' in just about every way imaginable. "Oh Atlas." And there was another thing. He'd named their daughter and he'd chosen to use her second. And although, Mary-Anne was never around he always felt guilty he'd never asked her. Always felt like he'd done something wrong. But then again, he supposed he shouldn't as everyday it became more and more just him and his little girl against the world._

_And then he began to sing and rock a dozing child to sleep._

•••

And back in the current, Sherlock found himself wiping tears out from his eyes. 

"Oh, little Atlas." He said putting his lips to her forehead, his nose bumping her forehead and giving a little sniff. "Your my little Atlas." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

LEANNE shot herself two days later. 

In an air B&B. 

By the River Irwell. 

Sammy didn't know until he got the phone call in school. It was the first day back.

He was in history and he took the call in the hallway.

He went back in the class, packed his things and left wordlessly.

Once outside, his legs ran and ran and ran and ran until he felt like his lungs were about to burst. He ran until all he could hear in his ears was the rhythmic tap of his feet hitting the pavement. His heart rate was through the roof and he couldn't see for tears as he kept running and running and _running._

And then he could see the hospital where he knew Sherlock and John were sitting with Atlas. 

He entered, his feet unable to stop running. But he stopped dead when he saw them sitting eating in the family room. Should he enter?

He did anyway and stopped just in the door.

"Sammy?" Sherlock asked, getting to his feet and putting his box of curry down. He walked over. "You ok?"

Sammy shook his head and looked to the ceiling. "The school don't know I left...can you...?" 

"Yeah, yeah." John said with a smile as he picked up his phone but stopped. "What's happened?" 

"She's dead." Sammy cried looking at Sherlock with a frown.

"We know." Sherlock soothed. 

"Not her," Sammy sobbed. "Georgia is dead. But, but...I can't..."

"Hey," Sherlock said again, rubbing at his arms gently. "Who?"

"My mum. She's dead. She's dead." Sammy said, Sherlock and John sharing a look before Sherlock found himself hugging Sammy to his chest. "She shot herself. She...I thought...they're all..."

"I know," Sherlock said, a soft smile now spreading across his lips. 

"What do you want to do?" John asked.

"Atlas. I want to go sit with Atlas." Sammy said quickly whilst John gave a quick nod.

"Okay, okay, you can. She was sleeping but you know what she's like. At last count she was lying on her front, her stitches go around her back of course." John said quietly. "Jesus."

"You ok?" Sammy asked.

"It's just hard." John said quietly.

"Yeah." Sammy said with a smile. "Could I? I don't suppose I could, would it be alright if I played to her? So long as she's not sleeping?"  
He held up his guitar with a smile and dumped his schoolbag at the side of the room.

"Of course you can." Sherlock smiled.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SAMMY." Atlas whispered. "Leanne died...didn't she?" 

"She did." Sammy said before putting his head down next to Atlas', an inch from her face. 

"I love you." Atlas whispered. 

"I love you too." Sammy whispered back. "And I'm so tired." 

"Makes the two of us." Atlas smiled. "I'm not in pain, it's just itchy and uncomfortable." 

"Well, I'll just stay here." Sammy said with a wide smile. "I promise." 

"Thank you." Atlas said with a smile. "For everything."

"The same to you." Sammy smiled. "The same to you."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"DAD." Atlas said urgently through hooded lashes. "Dad." There was no reply. "Dad. Dad."  
She paused. "Dad. Papa. Papa. Dad, where are you?" She paused again. "Dad. Dad. Papa." Tears sprung to her eyes. "Dad, dad I need you." They fell from the corners of her eyes. "Dad. Papa. Dad. Please. Dad." Her face screwed up and she looked around the room from where she was lying on her front. It was a poor vantage point and she couldn't see much around her. "Dad." She called again with a sob wriggling through her throat. "Dad. I need you." The room was dark. "Papa? Dad? Dad. Please."

"Atlas?" A voice called in the darkness before someone slipped to her side and into the chair beside her. 

"Dad. Dad, I need you. Dad. Please." Atlas sad through her tears, a face streaked in tears and pain. "Dad. Papa...Dad." 

"Shhh, shhh. I'm here." The voice rumbled as a hand covered her back.

"Dad." Atlas sobbed.

"I need you to do something for me." The voice said again, a finger tracing her stitches.

"Your not my dad...or papa....or anyone I know." Atlas said quietly.

"No." The voice replied. "But I am the man who put another man in your bed. I am the man who strapped bombs to your chest. I am the man who ordered Mr and Mrs Peterson to do what they were told." There was a pause in his voice. "Do you know what I really wish I could do?" The man hummed, his face close to his ear. "Take you home to my house. Take you in and hold you close. Then piece by piece I'd remove your clothes. And then we'd make love."

"You sick bastard." Atlas whispered, venom breath. 

"And I'd make it so good for you too. And then I'd probably twist your neck." He said again, running a finger over her stitched again. He pushed with his index finger making Atlas gasp in pain. "Then do it all over again while your body was still warm." He grabbed her arm.

"Let me go." Atlas said sternly. "Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Please, let me go. Let me go. Let me go." She said into the darkness before the world, if it were at all possible, when darker than the room around her.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS woke with a start, sweat pouring down her face, hair matted and she immediately looked for Sherlock. Who was alone in the room and sitting on the couch. Mindful of her stitches she looked at him, rolled over and sat up.

"Hey," Sherlock said, not looking up from his phone and it took Atlas wobbling over to him and plonking herself in the footwide gap between him and the couch to get him to notice her. Tucking up next to him she let out a whimper. "Nightmare?" 

"Yes...yeah...stupid PTSD." Atlas said quietly but she hid her face in Sherlock's suit jacket. She let out a silent cry and her body shook which made Sherlock gather her even more closely.

"You shouldn't be out of bed." Sherlock said. "But what's up, my darling?" 

"I just...it was a bad dream...a nightmare. About this, this man." Atlas started with a frown.  
"Mmhmm." Sherlock said as Atlas shifted to rest her legs over his, her ear against his heart. 

"I dreamt I was here." Atlas whispered. "But the man, was here too. The man who I couldn't see and it was just a voice. And it grated in my ears. I was calling for you and papa but you didn't come. He did. And he said things to me. About..." She paused. "Sex. And I don't know where it came from and I didn't know what to do."

"Hey, hey." Sherlock whispered. "Your ok." 

"I know. But when I woke up I remembered the bus driver I had at one of my Foster homes and then I remembered reading about him in the news last year and learning he was a rapist and my head did what it does best and it got carried away and I..." 

"Ok, ok." Sherlock said quietly. "Just breathe. Your ok."

"I know I'm ok. But that doesn't change anything." Atlas whispered. 

"I know it doesn't, but do you want me to stop saying it?" Sherlock asked with a content little laugh that lit up only the back if his throat. He didn't want to stop saying it. He wanted to provide comfort to her in everyway possible.

"No." Atlas whispered. 

"Oh sweetheart." Sherlock said with a small sad smile. 

"I'm still scared, dad." Atlas whimpered.

"I am too."


	45. Morag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, not a doctor. ✌

ATLAS' eyes tracked a blonde haired woman walking around outside her room. Before the woman enquired and approached a nurse. Then, the click of her heels entered the room and Atlas watched with her head turned to one side on her pillow. Her dads looked up to see the woman and Atlas watched Sherlock's face as he went through periods of recognition. 

"Is this...?" The woman asked uncerntaintly and Atlas saw that she had grey hairs starting to emerge. "Atlas Watson-Holmes." 

"It is." John said sharply before Sherlock stood. 

"M-morag?" Sherlock asked getting to his feet. "It's you!" He exclaimed.

"It is," Morag smiled. 

"These are my children, Rosie," Sherlock gestured to Rosie who was sitting on Sammy's lap. "Sammy," he gestured to Sammy with a smile. "And you already know Atlas." Sherlock was beaming. "And this is my husband."

"Dr John Watson-Holmes." John said with a smile as he held out his hand to the woman.  
"May I ask, how do you...?"

"Know Sherlock and Atlas?" Morag laughed before John nodded. 

"I was a midwife." Morag said. "The night that Atlas was born." 

"Well it's very nice to meet you." John said.

"Me and Morag kept in vague touch over the years. And I just recently told her about Atlas." Sherlock said with a weak smile.

"Sherlock, you always took good care of her. But I had to come and check." Morag teased before walking over to Atlas. "You won't remember me but I must say, you look more like your dad now than you did when you were first born. And you looked a lot like him then."

"Is that a compliment?" Atlas smirked.

"Of course it is. And it's not all about looks anyway. You no doubt have your dad's heart and brain." Morag smiled as she sighed, sitting down into the seat. "He made sure to hug and kiss you and he sat with you for so long when you were poorly. Come to think of it, he was looking after you when you were first born." She paused. "I don't suppose he's told you?" Blank faces. "About what your mum said?" Atlas shook her head. "This may be hard to hear. She tried to put you up for adoption. When you were born...But that man over there," Morag pointed to Sherlock. "That man over there refused. Said he would do it, and I believe barring the time you spent in care which was, in truth, was Sherlock absolutely trying to do the best thing for you, I believe that he has done a very good job with you." 

"I think that too." Atlas whispered. "I so very much think that too." 

"I know you do." Morag said with a smile. The moment stilled and it all went quiet. 

Well, quiet till Atlas sneezed into her elbow and immediately put a hand to her side, wincing in pain.  
"That hurt?" John asked quietly and Atlas nodded slowly. She reached out a hand to John, who stood, sat on the bed and took her hand.

"You Sherlock," Morag said after a moment, gathering her belongings. "Were always gay. And I sometimes worried you wouldn't choose the right person after Mary-Anne left. But it seems I was mistaken." She paused. "Very nice to meet you all. And get better soon Atlas, nice to see you Sherlock." And she left the room. 

"Hello," Dr Young smiled, entering the room. Her face was stretched into a wide smile and her hair pulled back off her face.  
"We have your results." Her smile dropped. "You have Functional Neurological Disorder, commonly known as FND." She paused. "This is in some ways a good thing, because it can be managed. The symptoms you experience can be managed through therapies and drugs." Atlas looked at her. "But we have to be glad that we caught it early enough. Now I'm sorry, I have to ask, Rosie, does she have any biological relation to you? I know Sammy does not."

"No." Atlas said in reply with a little smile.

"Okay. We've been reccomended in recent weeks, as this is a developing condition, we have been reccomended to test siblings." Dr Young smiled. "Now, I would like to outline your treatment plan."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SO, Dr Aduba," Atlas said some seven days later. "When can I go home?" 

"Soon Atlas, but not yet. Your still unwell. Your temp keeps spiking and every three or so days you require an oxygen mask." Dr Aduba frowned, Atlas looked to her lap.

"But I'm better." Atlas whispered.

"And you are but your still not well _enough._ I'm sorry." Dr Aduba said with a smile.

"You know what I miss?" Atlas asked.

"No, what do you miss? Humour me." Dr Aduba said with a smirk as he took her bloods.

"The stars." Atlas said quietly. "They truly are beautiful."

"I could take you out to see them one night." Dr Aduba offered, only to be met with Atlas shaking her head. 

"I want to ask my dad to take me out to see them." Atlas said after a long pause.

"Oh?" 

"Yeah, they're one of his favourite things too." Atlas said with a smile.

"You can go out tonight, I can go find him for you if you would like to go out sort of now." Dr Aduba smiled. 

"Yeah." Atlas said with a smile and as soon as the doctor was out the door she changed into a jumper. Gathering her trainers she pulled them on, then collected her blanket wrapped it around her shoulders and stood to her feet. Then she waited.

"Doctor Aduba said that you wanted to speak to me?" Sherlock said coming into the room to see Atlas taking some steps towards him. He walked to meet her.

"Dad," Atlas started. "Will you take me outside?" She paused. "To look at the stars?"

"It would be an honour." Sherlock smiled as he held out an arm. Atlas latched onto it and he held onto her. "Walk or wheelchair."

"Walk...I think I'm ready." Atlas smiled, from ear to ear. 

"I think you are too, sweetheart." Sherlock smiled as they made their way out of the room - but not before Sherlock had had a chance to stuff Whisper into his pocket.

Once they got outside Sherlock and Atlas stopped by a bench and they sat down, away from some streetlights and looked up. 

"It's beautiful." Sherlock sighed with a smile. 

"It is." Atlas smiled back, leaning against him. "Where's papa?"

"Nipped home to shave and shower I think." Sherlock laughed. "He's finally ditching the beard."

"Oh, okay." Atlas said quietly, resting her head against his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too." Sherlock smiled goofily rubbing her arm. "And the stars are smiling on us." 

"You think?" Atlas asked looking up at him.

"They'll always smile on you." Sherlock said looking up.

"Shouldn't you two be inside?" John scolded as he walked over with two cups of takeaway coffee in his hands.

"I wanted to see the stars." Atlas said, continuing to look up. 

"Ah." John paused. "Caffeine." John stated handing Sherlock one of the coffee cups then sitting down on the other side of Atlas. "You walk out here?"

"Yep." Atlas grinned. "I sure did." 

"Well done." John said with a smirk as he sat down. 

"Where's Ro and Sam?" Atlas asked again.

"Sleeping at home. With Mrs Hudson in the house." John replied putting a hand out to her head. He pushed her hair out of her face.

"Ok." Atlas said before she looked to the sky again, the stars reflecting like fireworks in her eyes. And then there were tears, her eyes flooded in helpless pools that she decided she would blame on the wind that was just starting to pick up. 

"Hey, what's wrong Atlas?" Sherlock said patting her knee.

"The wind." Atlas said gravelly.

"It's not." Sherlock said quietly and Atlas shook her head.

"I just want to go home, go back to normal. Go on - on adventures." Atlas said with a frown, throwing out a breath. "Go out with friends, see Redbeard." Her parents just listened. "I just want to go home." 

"I want you to come home too." John said with a sigh. "But Atlas, its only another week of making sure your all OK." 

"I know. But I'm fed up and I just want to go home." Atlas cried folding her arms across her chest. 

"Oh, love." Sherlock whispered rubbing her back. "I'm so proud of you." 

"I'm proud too." John said with an ear to ear smile. "I'm so, so very proud of you, Atlas." 

"You know, I'm just starting to be proud of me too." Atlas smiled.

"And so you should be." Sherlock smiled. 

"I love you guys." Atlas said looking to her dad, then papa before getting to her feet suddenly. She stood infront of them. "But I still want to go home." 

"We know." John said softly getting to his feet as well, before squeezing her shoulder. "We know." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"MORNING Atlas." Dr Aduba said with a smile as he walked into the room. Atlas was sleeping on her side with Sherlock and John asleep on the sofa. 

"Morning." Atlas said, blinking her eyes open with a cheerie smile. 

"I'm here to take your bloods." Dr Aduba said.

"Your really early." Atlas said looking at the clock with a frown.

"I am. But I wanted to do one this morning and one this evening." Dr Aduba said before Atlas sit up and offered up her arm.

"Ok." Atlas whispered, wincing once he started to take her blood. 

"Alright?" Dr Aduba asked with a weak smile.

"Just tired and I want to go home." Atlas said quietly looking down at her arm. "And the amount of blood your taking off me is making me want to throw up."

Dr Aduba gave a little chuckle. "Alright," he said stopping the tap. "Your all done anyway. And we've had the conversation about you going home."

"Yeah, I know." Atlas said frowning. "I just really miss people and my stuff and my music..." 

"I know. But your nearly there." Dr Aduba smiled, Atlas nodded. "I'll be by this afternoon." And then he left.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE breeze flowing through the room confused Atlas and suddenly she found herself sitting up abruptly. Gripping at the sheets and blinking her eyes repeatedly.

"Atlas." A voice said to her, a form sitting infront of her. "Settle. It's alright, your ok." 

"I can't. I want to go. Home. Go home. Need to breathe. Can't breathe." Atlas said quietly. 

"Your ok. Wherever you went, your ok." The voice repeated and Atlas looked to see John staring at her, hands placed either side of her face. "Listen to me."

"I'm trying." Atlas hiccuped.

"I know. Just breathe." John said quietly pulling her forehead towards him. Her breaths remaining erratic. "Shh shh. Okay, okay."

She hiccupped again, her tears now coming in a fast, steady flow. 

"There's things...these things around me...people, people coming for me." Atlas whimpered as John pulled her forehead to his lips and he kissed lightly. 

"I know it's hard, but try to block it out." John comforted as she pushed her face against his chest. Her shaking hands covered over her ears and she felt John pulling a blanket over her back until she was launched into a darkness that she found comforting. She could feel the soft cotton of his shirt and the soft cardigan that John had taken to wearing on weekends. "Your ok. You are safe." Atlas gave a whimper. "Oh sweetheart, you know you are." 

"Yes," Atlas whimpered as John moved his arms. "Don't...please don't go."

"Shhh, shh, sweetheart, I'm not leaving." John said reassuringly. "Your safe. Your with me."

"Papa." Atlas cried, snot coming out of her nose and joining her tears on his shirt.

"Right here, love. That's it. It's ok. Let it out." John said and Atlas could hear the smile in his voice. 

"Their touching me." Atlas whispered. "They keep trying to hurt us."

"They aren't real. Okay, listen to my voice. I am real. I am papa and I'm going to look after you. It's my job and I promise, I'm going to keep you safe. Block them out, they're not real." John said rubbing her back, before pushing a wrist under the blanket and exposing it's underside. He felt her fingers clasp around his wrist tightly, before loosening. The young hands were small, gentle, kind and shaking as they rubbed against the skin.

"You're real." Atlas said quietly.

"Yes, and anything else you can hear. Is not. Listen to my voice and keep your fingers against my pulse." John said, feeling her shaking hands resuming their position. "Good girl."

"Hello." Another voice said and John shushed whoever it was as he felt Atlas' body go rigid again. "It's okay, Atlas. Just keep focusing on my voice. Relax. It's just me. Your ok. Your safe." 

"Papa," Atlas hiccupped. 

"Yep, still me." John said gently. "You're ok."

"My head hurts," Atlas whispered against John before, the blanket one side to her was lifted up, and Whisper fed underneath. She took him and out him to her nose and he smelt like...

"Dad." Atlas whispered.

"I'm here." His voice whispered and Atlas took the blanket off her head and looked up to meet his eyes. 

"Ok." John said quietly, a hand against her cheek. "Your ok. How's your stitches feeling?"

"Okay." Atlas said before resting her cheek against his chest, her eyes on Sherlock. "Dad."

"Yeah." Sherlock said taking her hand and holding it over his heart. "Your ok. All those monsters. Your ok. We've got you." 

"They keep speaking," Atlas whimpered.

"Your hallucinating." Sherlock said matter-of-factly. "Your ok." 

"I'm not," Atlas said pulling away. "How can I be? How can I be, if all I can see when I'm not looking at someone I know, someone I love, I see monsters?" Her face screwed up as she sobbed through matts of hair that were tangled curls. "And that, that they keep talking. And I...I just want to go home. I want the monsters to all go away. I want them to..." She stopped before she looked up. 

"We know." Sherlock whispered reaching out a hand to brush her hair out of her eyes. "Would you like it, if I brush your hair?"

"And plaits?" Atlas whispered.

"Yeah," Sherlock smiled as he got up off his chair and sat behind her. He gently took her hair in his hand through it and pulled the paddle brush through her hair. Smoothing it over and over again with a small smile. "Oh love, it's such a tangle." 

"I know," Atlas sighed as she held both of John's hands in her own, Whisper in her lap.  
He rubbed at the backs of her hands as Sherlock continued to brush her hair.

"Do they not brush it for you?" Sherlock asked quietly as he pulled it through again. 

"They offer, but I don't want them to. They do it all wrong and try to use a _tangle teaser."_ Atlas scowled.

"Ah yes," John sighed. "And as I've been told, a tangle teaser is the worst thing to use on a combination of thick _and_ curly hair. Good job Sherlock thought to bring one." 

"Yeah, papa." Atlas smiled softly as Sherlock tugged again, without causing her any pain. "I want to go home."

"Oh love," Sherlock sighed from behind her and kissed her hair softly. 

"Dad," Atlas whined as she tipped head back with a smirk. 

"What?" Sherlock said with a smile. "Come on, that hair isn't going to tidy itself." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SO we're here to give you a little update on your treatment." Dr Young said, coming in with Dr Aduba in tow who effectively countered Dr Young's terseness. Atlas wriggled to a seated position. "So, while FND has people who recover and there are some success stories, we think that for you, we are best to approach your diagnosis from the view of management. As we believe you are at an increased chance of going through a relapse more than just a few times. We also do not want to rush." She paused. "We want to continue to put you though some strengthening therapy for your leg muscles. And we want you to have regular sessions with a mental therapist."

"I already do." Atlas said firmly.

"We want you to visit a hospital reccomended one." Dr Young said.

"No." Atlas said sharply. "I want to continue seeing Dr Fiona Harper. I like her."

"It's not a ca-" Dr Young began.

"I trust her." Atlas said indignantly before looking over to her dads who were both nodding in unanimous agreement.

"Alright." Dr Aduba said. "We also have another thing to mention. Despite your recent hallucination episode, we feel as a team who have worked on your case, that your further recovery would be better from your own bed." Atlas's eyes lit up brightly. "And we feel that as of Monday, you can be at home. However, I must stress that this decision has been made over several discussions and we will therefore require Dr John Watson-Holmes' signature to confirm that he will monitor your progress and bring you back should anything worry him. We feel that the poison is nearly gone and that the chances of any further symptoms other than headaches or occasional vomiting will be unlikely and should result in hospital admission. We would also like to note that we need to ask a rather sensitive question." Dr Aduba paused. "Normally, the changing of a dressing would be undertaken by a nurse but we thought we should ask anyway as you have a more than qualified person living with you. Atlas, would you like a nurse to come by and do your dressings over your surgical wound or Dr John Watson-Holmes? We reccomend a nurse due to the wounds close proximity to the breast."

"Papa." Atlas replied. "If that's ok? I don't - I really don't want someone I don't know touching me."

"But you've had your dressings changed in here plenty." Dr Young frowned and Atlas glared.

"Papa. I want him to do it." Atlas said looking over to John with a little smile. He looked back with a sparkle in his eyes and a nod. 

"Ok. Please understand that we are trusting you to no partake in any of the following; running this is also included with any physical sports; heavy lifting; and for now, swimming." Dr Aduba smiled. "In short nothing too challenging. And also refrain from harsh breaths and power singing. Just, be sensible."

"Ok," Atlas smiled. "And your serious?"

"Yes. We want you to recover at home." Dr Aduba smiled. "Also, Dr and Mr Watson-Holmes, we would like you to acknowledge that it is in Atlas' interest that their be one other person in the house at all times and that they visit her at regular intervals."

"Why?" Sherlock asked suddenly. "Other than to check she's ok, there isn't anything else we-we should be-be worrying about. Right?"

"Wrong," Dr Aduba frowned. "She loses consciousness other than a symptom of FND she needs bringing back. We need you to make sure everything is still working as we don't know the name of the poison, although we know how it was administered."

"No we don't," Sherlock frowned.

"I'll leave you to that one." Dr Aduba smiled before both him and Dr Young departed the room. 

"They told me," Atlas frowned as she looked over to where her parents were seated on the sofa. Climbing out of bed, she pulled her blue blanket around herself, sighed, before plonking herself down between them.

"Told you?" John asked putting a gentle hand to her back.

"Yes. And I haven't told you guys for the fact that I am certain you will blame yourselves and that I think you'll both be mad at me. And I don't...I really don't want that." Atlas sighed, looking to the ceiling, tears in her eyes. 

"Hey, hey," Sherlock said putting an arm around her shoulder and rubbed. "I won't be mad."

"So, it was in some...whisky. It was an experiment, to see if it tastes the same as it smells." Atlas said looking up at the ceiling. "In conclusion, both revolting." She gave a little chuckle before her smile dropped. "It as in the ice cubes. Typical. Riddle behaviour. A copycat who obviously isn't very intelligent. Seen riddles with that in for years." She paused thoughtfully. "I really am sorry dad, papa." She looked at them in turn. "I didn't want to touch it, to-to drink it but there was this person inside me, telling me I had no other choice... Like this urge." She stopped then looked to the ceiling. "And then I remember feeling just before I went down that feeling at the base of my skull. And I can remember waking up, all alone and I'm afraid to say..."

"That I'm afraid," John said before Atlas nodded, bit her lip before her eyes spilled over and she looked at John. Suddenly, before long, she found herself letting out a sob and almost diving into John.

"Alright," John soothed. "Oh love." He said furrowing his brows at Sherlock reached out a hand to rub her back. She breathed into his shoulder. "Are you ok?"

"My body hurts." Atlas said into his shoulder.

"I know," John soothed, kissing her temple. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS was giddy with excitement as she got into their land-rover. All of her stuff packed up as she smiled over to her dad who had arrived to pick her up on his own.

"Now, you remember the the things the doctors have said?" Sherlock asked as he looked over. 

"Yes, dad," Atlas smiled, rolling her eyes before looking out the front window. 

"Good." Sherlock smiled. 

When they got home Atlas just smiled before she saw her dog and eventually, dropped to her knees infront of Redbeard and wrapped her arms around him.

"Red." Atlas sobbed as he licked her face. Then, getting to her feet, she walked over to where Rosie was standing shuffling her feet. She dropped infront of her and wrapped her arms around her.

"At," Rosie said quietly. 

"Ro," Atlas said back. "Oh, Rosie, I missed you." Atlas squeezed the five year old tightly and smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too," Rosie said. "And so does Jeff." 

"Thank you Jeff." Atlas said looking at Jeff with a smile, before she stood and looked at Sammy. 

"Oh Sam." Atlas whispered wrapping her arms around him too. "Sammy." 

"Atlas." Sammy whispered, a lump caught in his throat. He gave a little cry as they both buried their noses in each others faces. 

"You ok?" Atlas asked him quietly.

"No, but it is what it is." He whispered.

"That it is." Atlas replied before she saw John coming down the stairs from the music landing. "Papa." 

She went towards him and collapsed against him. "Papa."

"Hello sweetheart," John said with a smile. "How are we today?"

"Good," Atlas whispered into his shoulder. 

"Ok," John said. "It's pasta for tea."

"What type?" She asked pulling away.

"Tortellini." He answered rubbing her shoulder.

"Ok." Atlas replied. 

"Movie?" Sammy asked pulling Atlas' hand.

"Yep. What one?" Atlas asked as she followed Sammy and Rosie to the sofa and they all settled down with blankets. 

"Well, Rosie has been trying to convince me that 'Finding Dory' is worth watching but I said we had to wait for you." Sammy said as he took up the remote and opened Netflix, going into Rosie's account so they didn't end up with any inappropriate adverts.

Sherlock and John hung back, Sherlock's face painted in a beautiful smile. 

"What are you so smiley about, love?" John asked approaching him and slipping an arm around his waist. 

"What do you think?" Sherlock laughed looking over at John softly. 

"I think everything is going to be just fine," John replied with a laugh, knowing fine well that wasn't what Sherlock had meant. With a smile, Sherlock leant down and kissed John on the lips with a smile. 

"I love you," Sherlock smiled resting his forehead against John's.

"I love you too, Sherlock." John smiled.


	46. Like When It Needs To Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a doctor.
> 
> Not edited.
> 
> Yep.

TWO weeks later and Atlas was starting to improve. Improve enough that John and Sherlock booked an impromptu trip to Lofoten in the North of Norway. They just had to tell the kids...and Sherlock's parents as they were the choice to look after them. 

Walking onto the music landing they were pleasantly surprised to find them all hanging about, writing up some music. Atlas was sitting with Sammy, looking at some music. They were scribbling out harmonies and doing all sorts of transposition work.

"Dad's," Atlas began, looking up. "What have you done?"

"Me and your papa, are going to Lufoten, for five days," Sherlock said with a smile and Atlas smiled back.

"Grandma and grandad?" Atlas asked quietly.

"Yep, you'll all be staying with them. But you'll be staying with them here. We didn't think it would be fair to ask you to stay with them at their house, Atlas." Sherlock said with a smile, Atlas giving a little frown and nodding. 

"I feel fine though, dad," Atlas complained. 

"Yes, I know that. But if something happens this hospital is _our_ hospital and the people their know your case. We're not out of the woods yet and I don't want to go and leave you yet but, I promised you I would." Sherlock smiled before he walked over. "Now, I booked the three of you in at the hairdressers. Yes, that includes you, Sam."

"Ugh, thank you." Sammy sighed, brushing a stray blonde curl out of his eyes. 

"And Rosie will continue at school but Atlas is not to go. Sammy, it's entirely up to you." John said with a smile.

"Alright," Sherlock chuckled. "Now, are we having some trouble working on transposition?"

"Bloody clarinets," Atlas answered and John chuckled as Rosie pulled him to the floor to show him her practising of drawing a treble, bass, tenor and alto clef. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS settled against Timothy in the comfort of her own home, watching as he typed up more notes for the next book.

"You've been busy," Atlas commented as she leaned against him.

"Yup," Timothy said before he looked at her with a smile, then he frowned. "Alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just really tired. It's one of the symptoms." She said quietly, rubbing her nose against him before regaining her focus on the laptop resting in his lap. On the other side of the room, Wanda was helping Sammy with his assignment whilst Rosie sat on the floor playing with Redbeard.

"So, does it mean that the labour party are right?" Sammy asked, looking at Wanda.

"Very much for you to chose, m'dear." Wanda smiled. "But I feel like your Labour anyway."

"Too right. Shame I can't vote yet." Sammy smiled at her as she put an arm around her shoulder.

"Welcome," Wanda whispered warmly, rubbing at his shoulder.

"Sorry?" Sammy asked quietly, looking at her expectantly.

"Welcome to our family." Wanda smiled before Sammy nodded slowly and smiled back. 

"I don't know what staying with them means, Wanda. I don't think it means that I'm theirs. And I certainly don't expect it to mean they'll cover my fuel, help me with uni, be at my wedding." Sammy said quietly.

"Do you want it to?" Wanda asked. "Mean all that?" 

"I'm ashamed to say it, but yeah, yeah I would like that," Sammy said as Wanda pulled him into a hug.

"Then you already have it." Wanda smiled. 

Back over by Timothy, Atlas' cloudy mind slowly began to enter a peaceful sleep, not plagued by nightmares.

"Is she ok?" Sammy asked as he walked over, Wanda not far behind him.

"I don't know," Timothy said, looking down at her form. He rubbed at her shoulder lightly. "It must have been hell for Sherlock and John. For you and Rosie."

"It was worse for Sherlock and John I think," Sammy replied. "But yeah..." 

"Yeah," Timothy smiled over to him.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"GRANDMA?" Atlas asked walking into the kitchen the following morning. 

"Yes?" She asked from where she was standing kneading some dough.

"Are we doing anything today?" Atlas asked rubbing at her tired eyes. Wanda looked up at her smiling before she frowned.

"No, I think we're just having a day here," Wanda said with a smile which was a complete and total lie but Atlas looked strangely pale. "Are you feeling alright today?" 

"Yeah," Atlas also lied, she didn't know what she felt. Just a little tired but she knew that, once again, it was a symptom of her of FND.

"Okay," Wanda said but she stopped kneading the dough, washed her hands and came over to Atlas. She rested her hand against her forehead. "Your a little warm but that could just be that you've just had a shower. You tell me if you feel ill, sweetheart, okay?"

Atlas nodded before her face frowned and she moved to engage Wanda in a hug.

"I missed you so much," Atlas said into her shoulder. 

"And I missed you too," she paused. "Now, I think your dads were going to facetime us this morning." 

"Why this morning?" Atlas asked curiously, pulling away to look at her grandmother.

"To check upon us all," Wanda smirked but Atlas frowned.

"Why not this evening?" Atlas asked quietly.

"Because, hell, I don't know Atlas," Wanda said frustratedly, looking at her. "I don't know."

"I don't want to be on the call," Atlas said quietly before walking past Wanda and going to the cupboard for some cereal.

"Why don't you want to be on the call?" Wanda asked looking over to her.

"Because you said I looked ill," Atlas mumbled under her breath, shrugging.

"Sorry?" Wanda asked looking at her granddaughter expectantly.

"Because you said I looked ill, and if I look ill then they'll have to cut their time short and I don't want that to happen. I don't want them to come home before they should because ultimately it will be my fault that they'll have had to come home and I'll feel guilty about it because they need time to-" Atlas rambled looking down at where she attempted to pour out some cereal. 

"Shhh, shhh, okay, okay." Wanda soothed placing a hand to her back and rubbing, removing the pack of cereal from Atlas' hand. "Don't stress about that. I'm sure that if you wanted them to come home, they'd come home."

"But I don't want them to," Atlas said sharply, looking up at Wanda.

"Okay, okay." Wanda soothed. "You are looking a little pale. Why don't you go back to bed and you can have some of my bread when you get up?" 

"Yeah," Atlas sighed. "Thank you."

"No problem, sweetheart," Wanda smiled as she watched her go. Once she was out of sight, Timothy came over with a smile.

"She's stressed," Timothy said quietly, standing next to Wanda who was tidying away the cereal.

"Yeah, I know." Wanda frowned. "But I just don't know what we do about that. She's frightened of having to ask her dads to come home and them being mad at her but I think she's also frightened that they won't come back at all."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"HELLO!" Wanda smiled into Timothy's iPad as they looked at John who was on the other side but Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. 

"Hello," John smiled.

"John, John." Sherlock could be heard saying off-camera.

"Sherlock?" John laughed as his eyes went up above the camera.

"We forgot our shampoo," Sherlock said and Wanda could practically hear the scowl. 

"Sherlock, don't worry about this and just sit down will you?" John said teasingly and Sherlock sat down with a mass of frizz on top of his head. 

"Hey," Sherlock said looking at the camera. "Where's Atlas?" 

"In bed," Sammy replied looking at the camera over the back of the sofa. 

"Is she alright?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

"Yes, she's fine. Just tired." Sammy replied quickly, yet unconvincingly.

"She's not. What's wrong?" Sherlock asked as John could be seen putting a hand to the back of his neck.

"She just looked a little pale, but stop worrying yourself. I'll keep a good eye on her, I promise." Wanda smiled at him.

"I know you will," John smiled. "Thank you, Wanda." 

"I'd do anything to keep her safe," Wanda paused. "To keep her well."

"I know," John smiled. "Wait, hang on, Sammy?"

"Yeah?" He said poking his head over the back of the sofa.

"You're supposed to be in school, it's Wednesday," John said frowning at him.

"I didn't want to go," Sammy admitted as he dipped his head again and they assumed he was playing with Redbeard.

"He insisted to be at home for Atlas," Wanda said. "And when I tried to chase him out he refused so I didn't want to fight it."

"I don't want to go without her," Sammy said. "Because people are already trying to ask me about my mum or my dad or Georgia or about Atlas and I don't want to go because Atlas would tell them off if she was there and it would make it easier, but she's not so it's harder." He said without raising his head.

"Alright," Sherlock said quietly. "We'll talk about it more when we get home but you'll be ok." 

"Thank you for not being too mad at me," Sammy said quietly, the sound slightly muffled.

"'Course not," John smiled into the camera. 

"Rosie get off to school alright?" Sherlock asked.

"Yep, quite happy to go. Timothy walked with her there. She wanted to stay and call you but I said you might call back tonight. Sorry, I think we might have dropped you in it." Wanda said with a smile.

"Quite alright," Sherlock smiled. 

"Have a good day," Sammy smiled as he could be seen getting to his feet and disappearing.

"Look after them," John smiled.

"Of course we will," Timothy smiled. "Bye."

"Bye."

"Bye."

"Bye."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ATLAS," Sammy said sliding into the room and looking over to the bed. There, her form was shaking, shivering like she was cold. "Atlas, are you alright?" 

"I'm just cold," Atlas said through chattering teeth. "I'm sure I'll be ok. Just let me sleep." 

"Atlas," Sammy said sternly, coming over to the bed.

"Don't tell Grandma, I'll be okay by tomorrow." Atlas chattered staying still in bed. Sammy moved round to the other side to face her. 

"Oh Atlas," Sammy said when he saw her face and, slipping under the covers, he pulled Atlas to him and kissed her hair. "You're ok. I'll look after you."

"Sam," Atlas said against him. "I love you."

"I love you too." Sammy sighed against her. "I think we need to tell Wanda and Timothy." 

"No-no," Atlas muttered. "Please-please don't." 

"Atlas," Sammy said sternly.

"Please," She whispered, closing her eyes against him.

"Alright," Sammy said, persuaded.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

LATER that evening Wanda went upstairs, more concerned than she felt she needed to be. Atlas had only appeared for lunch throughout the whole day and herself and Sammy had professed to binge-watching "Glee" all evening. 

"Knock knock," Wanda said, smiling as she entered only to see Sammy and Atlas curled up together under the duvet. 

"Hey," Sammy said quietly over Atlas' head.

"All okay?" Wanda asked and Sammy looked at her and shook his head.

"She's been shivering on and off all day," Sammy frowned. "Except for when she's sleeping or for twenty-minute intervals."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Wanda asked before she immediately knew what her answer was going to be. 

"Because she's scared." They both said in sync before Wanda frowned. 

"Bless her," Wanda said quietly sitting onto the bed. "Jesus, we keep saying it must have been hard on you, Rosie, John, Sherlock but hell, I didn't even consider what it would be like for her. Sherlock never liked it when his body resented him, repelled against him and Atlas's has been doing it to her for nearly two and a half months."

"Yeah," Sammy whispered. "It hurts to see her hurting this much. Her mind is trying to fight her body but it keeps betraying her. And the pain...the pain in her body, the tingling, the-the pins and needles." 

"You look after her well," Wanda smiled and Sammy nodded as a tear fell down his cheek and he rubbed his face against her hair. 

"Thank you," Sammy said. "She's my twin." 

"She is most certainly that," Wanda laughed quietly. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

IN the middle of the night Atlas woke herself up, screaming until she thought her lungs might explode. Tears streaming down her face as she screamed and it was Sammy who appeared first. 

"Atlas...Atlas," Sammy tried prompting her to stop screaming. "Your ok, your ok." 

"Atlas?" Wanda asked coming in to see her smashed against Sammy.

"Your ok, your alright, Atlas." Sammy smiled. "You are ok." 

"Okay, I need-need to go back-back to sleep." Atlas chattered as she pulled away and looked at Sammy. She was just about to lie down when she felt Wanda's hand go to her forehead. 

"Atlas, you're burning up," Wanda said looking at her critically. "I think we need to call the doctor."

"No, no," Atlas said furtively. "It'll be fine. Just leave it."

"Atlas," Wanda said in return. 

"Please," Atlas said again before she lay back and closed her eyes. Then opened them again and looked at Wanda and Sammy. 

"Why are you looking at me?" Atlas asked as she saw Timothy come into the room.

"Nothing," Wanda said with a smile. 

"Can I stay?" Sammy asked, looking at both the adults. 

"I don't see why not," Timothy smiled. 

"We'll leave you in peace and if your no better in the morning, we'll ring the doctors," Wanda said before they disappeared.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE next morning brought Mycroft and Eurus who stopped by with scones that Mycroft had made. Atlas was curled on the sofa, looking out the window vacantly when Mycroft walked over.

"Hello," Mycroft greeted as he sat down next to her and Atlas looked at him and then away.

"My transport's betraying me, Uncle Mycroft," Atlas said before she looked over to him.

"Still not feeling good?" He asked as he crossed his legs haphazardly. Atlas shook her head. 

"This is going to sound weird but, I need a seizure." Atlas frowned. "Like when it needs to rain." 

"Alright," Mycroft said. "Do your grandparents know?"

"No," Atlas whispered before she leaned against him. 

"Well maybe we need to tell them," Mycroft said wrapping an around her. 

"I don't want my dads to have to come back," Atlas whispered.

"I know," Mycroft whispered. 

"I think I'm going to go upstairs for a while," Atlas said getting to her feet and going up the stairs, Sammy's eyes tracking her. Before he got up and followed her. 

"Atlas?" Sammy asked looking in the door to see her sitting in her window seat with her head in her hands. He was just about to enter when he felt a little hand take him and lead him inside. Realising it was Rosie he pulled his hand out her grasp, shut the door and walked over.

"Sammy," Atlas said quietly. "I think I'm going to have a fit...but I don't want them to make a fuss."

"Who do you want? We need an adult." Sammy insisted. 

"No we don't, you know the drill," Atlas said as she got down onto the floor and lay on her back.

"No," Rosie cried, clutching Jeff. "Atlas, no."

"Rosie?" Atlas asked sitting up and looking at her.

"I want daddy, I want Papi...Atlas...don't do this," Rosie sobbed before getting to her feet and running out the door and down the hallway and Atlas just watched. 

"Atlas," Sammy said, trying to catch her attention. "Atlas, lie down."

"No, no, I need to go tell them I'm fine," Atlas said insistently, getting to her feet and walking out into the hallway.

"Atlas, remember," Sammy said as he held her shoulder. "Stop walking."

"But we're having a party, I have to be a good host," Atlas said with a smile but dead eyes.

"Atlas...there is no party," Sammy said, taking her hands and leading her away from where she was near the stairs.

"There is, everyone's here. May and Xerxes and Greg and-"

"Atlas," Sammy said as he leads her to the landing. "Atlas, it's not real."

"It is," Atlas said indignantly before looking at Sammy with a frown. "I'm suddenly feeling a little iffy."

"Atlas, you need to lie down. You said you were going to have a seizure." Sammy said looking at her and her vacant eyes, she didn't even respond.

"No...no," Atlas said, putting her arms around Sammy's waist as they entered the music landing.

"Atlas," Sammy repeated and he could hear Rosie squealing downstairs. He heard Mycroft announce himself behind them with Wanda.

"Atlas, lie down," Mycroft instructed. 

"No," Atlas persisted. "If I stay standing then maybe it won't happen." She was holding herself up through Sammy and she squatted. 

"Atlas," Mycroft said as he nodded at Sammy who started to lower her down.

"No, no, I don't want to," Atlas said as Sammy continued to lower her till she was lying.

"Okay, okay, your alright." Wanda soothed as they lay her down, Mycroft collecting her glasses.

"I don't want to," Atlas tried again her eyes wide, her pupils blown. 

"Atlas, just relax," Mycroft soothed. 

"No, no," Atlas said, tears spilling over her eyelids, hanging off her eyelashes. 

"Shh, shh," Sammy said as he sat leaning against the sofa. 

"I don't want to," Atlas whimpered. "I don't..."

"I know," Wanda smiled, Mycroft kneeling next to her. Then Atlas' eyes rolled into the top of her head and her body began to convulse from the crown of the head to the tips of her toes. Mycroft rolled her onto her side and held a tissue under her mouth.

Sammy just sighed and looked away with tears in his eyes and a frown on his lips. 

It took ages for the seizure to end and then, when it did, her body was lying on the ground, unresponsive. Her eyelids shut over her eyes and she lay...still.

"Atlas?" Sammy asked as he crawled over to her form and looked at his watch like he had throughout her seizure. "Uhhh...something's not right, something's not right," Sammy said taking her hand. 

"Atlas?" Mycroft asked before he took her wrist and checked for her pulse and his eyes went wide. "Mother." 

Wanda looked at him.

"Call an ambulance, her pulse is weak," Mycroft said before he looked over to Sammy who had tears in his eyes. "Hey, hey...kid..."

"Mycroft," Sammy whispered looking at him.

"She will be ok," Mycroft said as he folded up the tissue and put it on to the table. Wanda came back up the stairs and sat on the sofa by Sammy, Rosie creeping up and standing next to Mycroft with a tear-stained face. Timothy appearing a moment or so later. 

"My," Rosie whined as he slipped an arm around her shoulder. Then she put her face against him. "My."

"I know Rosie," Mycroft said as she pulled away and walked over to Sammy. From there she climbed into his lap and rested against him. 

"Alright?" Sammy asked as he wrapped his arms around her and she shook her head.

"Up here," They heard Eurus say from downstairs as two ambulance men came up.

"I know this is difficult for you all, but can we maybe give us some room to work?" The male ambulance man asked and they all moved away, Sammy taking Rosie to his and Atlas' room, beckoning for the dog to follow. 

And within moments they found themselves following in cars, Mycroft in the ambulance.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

IT was sharp and sudden when Atlas came around, sitting bolt upright in the bed and looking around flusteredly. 

"Your alright," Mycroft said to her, hands either side of her face. "You'll be alright. Your alright." 

"My?" Atlas asked, looking at him with a frown.

"Yeah," Mycroft whispered. "Yeah, it's me, Ida." 

"Mycroft," Atlas said quietly. "Mycroft. Uncle-Uncle Mycroft." 

"Yes," Mycroft whispered.

"I'm scared Myc," Atlas whispered.

"I know," Mycroft whispered as Atlas let out a little sob. "Oh, Ida, I know." Before opening his arms and letting her in for a hug. "Oh, Ida."

"Mycroft," Atlas whispered. "Mycroft." She whispered. "Mycroft I think I'm going-"

And then she went again. 

Mycroft held her up until he realised and he lay her back down and he got onto his feet immediately. 

"Atlas?" Dr Aduba said coming into the room, despite him not being assigned to her case.

"When was she readmitted?" Dr Aduba asked walking into the room as Mycroft moved away.

"This afternoon, she had a seizure and didn't regain any consciousness" Mycroft informed quickly as she continued to seize. His fingers folded over his mouth as he watched her fingers opening and shutting, her neck stretched and tensed.

"I'm asking to be put back on her case," Dr Aduba frowned. "Where're her parents?"

"In Norway," Mycroft said. "My sister is ringing for them." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE Northern Lights scattered over the sky reflected in Sherlock's eyes as painting and John smiled. 

"Your beautiful," John said to his husband before Sherlock looked at him with a smile. Shuffling on the wooden floor with a smirk he got closer to John. They were sat with their backs against the sofa looking up at the sky through the glass of their rented mountain hut. "You are so bloody beautiful it hurts."

"Oh, sorry," Sherlock stammered.

"No, no," John chuckled. "It isn't a bad thing, love. It's a very very good thing. It means I love you." 

"Oh," Sherlock said quietly looking back up the hern lights. "These few days with you are the best days, I have ever had. And they have made me realised how much I am in love with you. And how-" Sherlock stopped and looked at him with teary eyes and angled his body on the ground to face him. "I will love you till more than the day I die. And it won't stop, even when I'm in my grave and all that sort...of...I don't know...weird tangent. That was going to be all soppy, romantic and sweet." Sherlock said sipping his red wine as John did so, both smiling into their glasses. 

"I'm so happy," John said with a smile as he set his wine glass down. 

"Yeah?" Sherlock asked looking back at the sky.

"Oh, Sherlock." John laughed he paused. "We need to bring the kids here, they'd love it."

"By kids, does this mean you are including Sammy?" Sherlock asked John quietly. 

"Of course," John smiled. 

"Congratulations, Dr and Mr Watson-Holmes, you have a son!" Sherlock said in the high register of his voice with a loud giggle that echoed around the room. And then John's face straightened.

"Poor kid," John said looking up at the sky himself. 

"Yep," Sherlock frowned before he looked at John. "Your thinking about Atlas again."

"Christ, yes," John said with a smile. "I know she'll be fine but christ, we found it difficult but did no-one stop and think got one minute that she might just be tearing up from the inside? That her "transport" isn't working right. That she's she just wants to 'self-combust' as she said the other day before we left. She hasn't touched her fiddle and that's scary. She's so depressed Sherlock. I can't _not_ think about her." 

"Her fiddle," Sherlock said quietly with a smile. "I like that, _fiddle."_

"Aye," John said with a smile and they giggled. 

"I've never thought to call it that," Sherlock smiled before giggling like that. "John, you know, you're beautiful too." 

"Well thank you," John said putting his head on Sherlock's shoulder, Sherlock's arm going around him.

"My living, laughing, love." Sherlock recited quietly before putting his nose to John's hair. 

"Huh?" John asked him.

"It's a piece of a poem called 'Anne Hathaway' by Carole Ann Duffy, it's about Shakespeare's wife," Sherlock said quietly. "Or in my case, I think that piece fits my husband quite well." 

"Oh god, I love you," John said, leaning up to kiss his cheek fondly.

"For me or my quotes?" Sherlock laughed leaning his head against John's.

"For the package," John smiled. 

"Is that your phone?" Sherlock asked John with a smile as John reached into his back pocket and pulling it out. 

"Shit," John said his face falling as he scrambled to his feet. "Eurus?" He turned it onto speaker as Eurus spoke into the phone.

"I hate having to say this," Eurus said. "Hope you're having a good time of it." 

"We are," John smiled. "Now, the truth and the whole truth." 

"Atlas is in the hospital again," Eurus said into the phone. 

"What?" Sherlock asked sharply getting to his feet.

"She had a fit and she wouldn't come around," Eurus said. "She had another fit in the ambulance according to Mycroft and she's just started another now. Her temps right up though and she's experiencing quite a severe delusion too."

"We need to - We need to come home," Sherlock said. 

"No...you have one more day, she'll be okay," Eurus whispered.

"No," Sherlock and John said in unison before looking to each other. 

"We're coming home," John said.

"Eu EU," Rosie said looking up at Eurus. "Is that Papi and daddy?" 

"Yeah," Eurus said before adding. "Yeah, yeah sweetheart. Do you want to talk to them?"

"Papi," Rosie cried into the phone. "Daddy."

"We're coming home," John said. "We're coming home, love."

"Papi," Rosie cried. "We need you. Me and Sammy and Atlas need you. Daddy, daddy." 

"I'm coming home sweetheart. Look after Atlas and Sammy and Jeff for us till we get back." Sherlock said quietly as he stuffed his shaking hands into his blazer pockets, looked at John as he hung up and darted away. 

In the bathroom, he found himself staring at his reflection and complexion that was pasty. Gripping onto the edge of the sink he took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. But it wasn't working and he heard John knocking on the door. The _locked_ door. 

"Sherlock, love, let me in," John said, stopping from his knocking. "Sherlock."

But Sherlock's head was so full of other things he didn't hear John as he slid down the wall and tucked his knees to his chin. Unable to catch a breath and feeling so stupid for being a grown man who couldn't control his emotion. Couldn't be the grown-up he needed to be. Couldn't be the father he needed to be.

"Sherlock," John said again, this time pushing his weight against the door but when it didn't open he tried the handle. Only to find it wasn't locked. He opened it slowly and entered, kneeling in front of Sherlock. "Oh Sherlock, you okay." He placed his hands either side of Sherlock's face and rubbed with his thumbs. "Look at me." 

"John," Sherlock whimpered, looking at his partner. Tears in his eyes his breathing speeding up.

"Okayyyyou'rereereerereur okay," John said looking at him softly. "Breath, Sherlock, take some deep breaths." 

"John," Sherlock said again, looking at him.

"Breath, Sherlock," John soothed before brushing his cheek again. "In and out." Sherlock reached out a hand and placed it on John's chest. 

"Atlas," Sherlock sobbed, looking at John through his eyelashes. 

"Will be ok, she's with people who love her. Now breathe with me, Sherlock." John whispered with a gentle smile stroking his cheek. "Good, that's good, love." 

"John," Sherlock said again before he leaned forward and hugged him, his hand still tucked between them. 

"Okay, okay," John whispered, a cheek to his head. "We'll go tomorrow morning. There isn't going to be any outgoing flights tonight." 

"I feel sick," Sherlock said again, frowning as he was looking to the side. 

"Alright," John soothed rubbing Sherlock's cheek. "Are you going to be sick?" 

"No, no, I just feel it," Sherlock said resting his head against the tiles behind it. 

"Alright," John said before Sherlock began to cry again.

"I don't want her to die, John. I don't want her to..." Sherlock whimpered as he looked at John. "I don't want her to die. And I'm not ready." 

"I'm not either," John said with tears in his eyes. "I don't want her to die either." He sat down and looked at Sherlock. "And she's not going to, okay?" 

"John," Sherlock groaned. 

"I know," John said quietly. "Oh god, Sherlock, I know." He kissed him then, it was, in all senses of the term, gross, (mucus and tears) but still, it was nice. 

"John," Sherlock said again, his breathing starting to slow down as he looked at him. "John." 

"Hey," John said leaning forward. "Right here. Your ok." 

"John, I love you," Sherlock said, whispering as if it were some forbidden secret that he dare not say.

"I love you too, Sherlock," John smiled as he leaned forward and pulled the younger man to his chest as he began to cry.

"John," Sherlock said again. 

"Shh, shhh, alright Sherlock. It is what it is." John said as Sherlock cried. "Now, why don't we go finish our wine and watch the northern lights some more?" 

"Yeah," Sherlock coughed before getting to his feet, John following.

"John?" Sherlock said looking in the mirror.

"Yeah?" 

"Sorry," Sherlock said, looking into the really interesting sink.

"Sherlock," John said quietly, putting an arm around his waist. "Stop saying sorry. That was good."

"So not...not good?" Sherlock asked looking to John expectantly.

"No, christ Sherlock, if your upset your allowed to be. You'rererere allowed to tell me, I'm your husband and I love you. And if not me someone else and you're allowed to _cry."_ John said looking at him and reaching up to touch his cheek. 

"Ok," Sherlock smiled back before he initiated a kiss this time with a smirk.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ATLAS?" A voice requested as she pulled the duvet over the top of her head, hiding her face into the sheets. Tucking herself tightly into a ball she sniffed and heard the seat to one side creak. 

"Atlas, it's us," Sherlock said with a frown, reaching out a hand to touch her head but she pulled away. 

"She's been reluctant to show her face," Wanda informed with a frown. 

"Hey," John said sitting down on the bed. "We came back."

"Go away," Atlas said quietly. 

"Atlas-" John tried.

"Go away," Atlas said a little louder.

"Atlas-" Sherlock said again.

"Go away!" Atlas shouted. "Go away, go away, go away! I don't want you to be here. Go away!"

"Atlas, your dads came b-" Wanda also tried.

"I don't care. I hate them, I hate them. Go away!" She screamed before turning around showing her face to them. The dark circles under eyes, the trembling hands, the pale complexion. "Go away!" She screamed again putting all her energy into it, gripping her duvet and sustaining the note. 

"Right," John said, getting to his feet and putting his hand out for Sherlock. But the younger man didn't move, just stood. Feet firmly planted on the ground. "Sherlock, she's distressed, come on," John whispered nodding as he took his hand and broke his gaze with Atlas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ew, my work makes me cringe.
> 
> But, on another note.
> 
> This chapter was originally written as a joint with the next one lol.


	47. Lessons From The Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't edit.
> 
> But I'm weird. ✌
> 
> Anyway, whatever.
> 
> I'm knackered.
> 
> And no, I don't edit this.

"ATLAS," Dr Aduba prodded again, brandishing the oxygen mask. "You need the mask." 

"No," Atlas gasped. "I don't want it."

"You listen to me, you will pass out." Dr Aduba said again before Atlas took the mask and Dr Aduba helped her.

"I don't deserve it," Atlas said back to Dr Aduba.

"Deserve what?" Dr Aduba said, furrowing his brows. 

"To live," Atlas gasped.

"Hey, listen to me, you do," Dr Aduba said. "What's brought this on?"

"I shouted at them," Atlas said. "My dads."

"Oh?" Dr Aduba asked looking at her. "Sit forward a moment." He put a stethoscope to her back. 

"What're you doing?" 

"Checking for infection. You were shivering last night and with a battered immune system from the poison I'm not convinced." Dr Aduba said. "But continue."

"I shouted at them to go away," Atlas sighed into the mask.

"Why?" Dr Aduba asked as he tapped at one of her shoulder blades.

"Because I don't want them to see me. I didn't want to ask them to come home and spend even more time with me. It's not fair. They hardly see my sister or Sammy and it must be hard for them." Atlas said exasperatedly. "And I'm scared they hate me." 

"I'm sure they don't," Dr Aduba comforted.

"Would you blame them if they did?" Atlas asked with wide eyes. "I've stolen their time, their lives and I'm still sat here. In fucking hospital."

"Alright," Dr Aduba smiled as he pulled down her top. "You just need to apologise."

"What if I can't? I don't want them to see me." Atlas groaned as she pulled her knees to her chest and placed her forehead against them. 

"Why?" 

"Because I don't want them to think they have to sit with me. 'Cause I don't want them to." Atlas said. "I don't want them to waste their time on me."

"Atlas, listen to me, they never went home," Dr Aduba smiled. "They are sitting in the family room."

"I don't want to see them," Atlas said quickly before lying back and shutting her eyes.

"Alright, I'll leave you be." Dr Aduba said before leaving the room and heading straight for the family room. He knocked before entering to see Sherlock and John sitting in different sections of the room, momentarily looking to the door.

"I hope I haven't interrupted anything?" Dr Aduba questioned, as he entered and shut the door.

"No," John replied stoutly, looking out the window onto London.

"She's distressed," Dr Aduba informed. "And she told me about shouting at the two of you to leave. You have to understand the mental pressure she is experiencing." 

"It's just hard to come back from another part of the world just to have your daughter scream at you to leave you alone," John said looking out the window.

"I understand," Another voice added, stepping into the room. It was Dr Young in her lab coat and scrubs. "But I must press you to realise the mental strain and mental capabilities of a - and I know this is not your doing - mentally and physically abused teenager suffering from PTSD, Anxiety, Depression and now to have poison in her veins that's making her ill, what is now looking like she has a chest infection and finally a recent diagnosis of FND which is - in many cases - chronic and she experiences pain, tingling, seizures of both absence and convulsive and short term memory loss. She thinks you two are mad at her. She thinks you'd rather be away and she wishes she weren't the cause of your worries and she wishes that her life wasn't so complicated." 

When Dr Young finished she nodded with a frown to Dr Aduba. Well, we all know who the earwig is now. "And I'm afraid," Dr Young began. "She's showing suicidal tendencies." 

"What?" Sherlock asked getting to his feet suddenly. 

"Suicidal tendencies," Dr Aduba reiterated. 

"Sherlock," John said coming over and putting his hand on his husband's shoulder. 

"O-okay," Sherlock said before he dotted around them and headed for his daughter's room.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS gripped the sink in her private bathroom and looked at the mirror before she put two hands to her cheeks and forced her lips into a smile. 

And then she held the sink again and looked around the room before back to the mirror. She put her eyes on the eyes in the mirror and she frowned. How tired she looked? How upset? And then she saw her dad in the mirror behind her.

"Dad?" Atlas asked turning sharply. 

"Hey," Sherlock whispered as he stood in the door and he looked upset too. He just stood in the door and Atlas looked back into the mirror and picked up the hairbrush. She pulled it through her hair and frowned when it tugged a little hard. But she did it again and again and again and again. "Atlas." He moved a little closer. "Atlas, sweetheart, stop." He came over and put his hands on the hand pulling a brush through her hair. She tried to pull it again before Sherlock gripped her hand, took the hairbrush and brushed it.

"Sweetheart," Sherlock said running it through her hair before he stopped and Atlas could hear the sob as it escaped his throat. 

"Dad," Atlas said turning around sharply to look at him.

"I'm sorry," Atlas replied swiftly, looking at him. "I didn't mean it, dad, I didn't mean to say what I said. I promise. I didn't mean it. I love you. I didn't...I'm sorry dad." 

"Okay," Sherlock whispered. "It's not that. I just...you don't think you deserve to be alive? You don't-?"

"Dad," Atlas whispered. "I don't think I'm going to do anything but sometimes I guess I don't know. I'm sorry for screaming at you and papa, you didn't deserve any of that." 

"My darling," Sherlock whispered. "Stop beating yourself up over it." 

"Dad," Atlas said before wrapping her arms around him and gripping his shirt for he didn't wear a blazer. 

"Oh Atlas," Sherlock whispered, rubbing her back. "I wish I never left."

"That's not fair to ask," Atlas said as she pulled away and looked at him. "You need to have a life." 

"Your part of my life," Sherlock said back. "You're my friend for life." 

"Well, actually your my friend for life until you or I die," Atlas laughed before Sherlock smirked. 

"Don't talk like that," Sherlock giggled before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Now, I think the doctors might be annoyed if your out of bed for too long." 

"Dad," Atlas whispered. "Dad, I don't want to die."

"I'm fighting this with you like we always did and like we will always do," Sherlock said as he looped an arm around her waist and walked with her to the bed and sat her down. 

"Dad?" Atlas asked quietly as she lay down and he pulled the covers over her, tucked them over her shoulders and sat down on the bed. 

"Yeah?" Sherlock asked as he took her hand. 

"Can I-Will you?" Atlas asked and although it wasn't an actual question he knew what she was asking and got to his feet, toed off his shoes and hopped under the covers. She put her head against his shoulder and an arm over his stomach. "Dad?"

"Mhmm?" He asked, looking down at her.

"Where's papa?" She asked looking at him.

"Just here," John said as he entered the room with a smile and she sat up from Sherlock, flicked off the covers, got to her feet and walked over, slipping her arms around his waist.

"Sorry," Atlas whispered as he rested a cheek against her hair. "I didn't mean it. I promise. I love you. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it."

"Shh," John said quietly. "I know you didn't, silly." 

Atlas pulled away, looked at him before going around and climbing back into the bed and huddling against Sherlock. The side of her head rubbing against his chest, his arm looping around her. She reached out a hand and gripping John's, closed her eyes. 

"Alright, sweetheart?" John asked as he rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. 

"I'm sorry," Atlas whispered. "I shouldn't have...shouted...it was cruel. And I love you." 

"Shh, we know," John soothed, moving forwards in his seat. Sherlock's hand travelled up and touched the side of her head, holding it closer to him. 

"But I didn't mean it, I promise." Atlas insisted, working herself up and becoming increasingly upset as Sherlock just rubbed her back.

"Hey, hey," Sherlock paused. "Hey, stop that. We know, just breathe. Your alright, just breathe." 

"Alright, sweetheart," John whispered. "That's it." John paused before looking at her with a little smile. "Oh, love," John said as he watched Atlas' eyes glaze over and her body goes rigid. "Don't move, Sherlock." 

"Is she...?" Sherlock asked looking down at her head which suggested her eyes were fixed on a button-up her shirt. 

"Yeah, just stay still, shouldn't be out of it for too much longer," John informed with a small smile.

"Alright," Sherlock said frowning. 

Atlas blinked repetitively before slowly moving her head and looking up.

"Alright?" John asked before Atlas looked at him and nodded slowly. 

"Yeah, did I?" Atlas asked with a little frown and questioning, afraid eyes. 

"Yeah," John said. "I'm sorry kid." 

Atlas just sighed rolled away from her dad and lay on her back and putting her hands to her eyes. Then she sat up and looked over to her dads.

"I'm sorry you know?" Atlas said quietly. "And I hope you know that."

"Of course we know that," John said before he stood and sat on the bed near her. "Atlas, you need to go to sleep." 

"I don't need to," Atlas muttered.

"Atlas," John said putting an arm around her shoulder. 

"I don't want to," Atlas whimpered before putting her head against John's shoulder. "I don't want to."

"Shhh, shhh," John whispered. 

"They come when I sleep," Atlas whispered, burying her nose in his shoulder.

"I know," John said back before Atlas sobbed. "Oh, love, I know." 

"I'm sorry," Atlas said as Sherlock sat up and also looped an arm around her. 

"You're allowed to be miserable," Sherlock said. "This is no fun, being here." 

"There aren't any books. How can people be so comfortable with that?" Atlas complained about a smirk.

"Well, some people just don't see the value in them," John said with a laugh. "And I don't understand that either." 

Atlas smirked before laughing as if something had tickled her. 

"It's nice to see you smiling," John said with a smile. 

"It's nice to smile," Atlas smiled. "Do you know when I can go home, papa?"

"No," John said, rubbing her back. "I don't know sweetheart." Before Sherlock got to his feet and took out his phone, snapping a photo of a confused looking Atlas and John.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked with a smile and a look that was only reserved for the family. 

"Taking a photo because right now is a little bit happy," Sherlock said as he took another one just as the pair began to laugh again. "We need to capture it, I think." 

"I'm sorry I pulled you away from your trip, you deserved it," Atlas said quietly.

"Atlas, just stop apologising," Sherlock said harshly before pulling her to him wordlessly.

"But you did, you should have had time to see each other and I feel really bad because I haven't even been back with you a year and I feel like I'm taking up too much of your time and you should be at home with Rosie, not here with me and you should be smiling and you shouldn't be crying and you should be celebrating Rosie coming home from school every day because she needs that and you should be with Sammy because his parents and sister are dead and we're his family now and the world is so cruel but I'm okay and you should just leave me alone to be here and I'm n-" Atlas rambled.

"Atlas," Sherlock interjected. "Stop, it's okay. It's not under your control, none of this is under your control. It's alright."

"But I'm still ashamed," Atlas whispered before looking up to John and then to Sherlock. 

"I know," Sherlock said again. "I know what it feels like. Alright? When I was on drugs and...all that...I dragged my friends time away from their loved ones...and I shouldn't have done that. People were running shifts looking after me and I would have been fine."

"But you weren't, Sherlock," John finished. "And that's a moment for which I am ashamed. Your dad here, was going through hell like no other and me? I was too busy wallowing in my self-pity and being selfish that I didn't spend enough time to care about my friend who was going through just as much hell as myself. Even more, because of who he is, how wonderfully dangerously he loves. What I'm trying to say," John paused. "Is that, you shouldn't feel ashamed because, at the end of the day, we don't want to be anywhere else except, maybe at home, with you and Sammy and Rosie and Redbeard-"

"And Jeff," Atlas giggled.

"And Jeff. But you should not feel ashamed." John looked at Sherlock. "Either of you." Sherlock nodded slowly before they initiated a group hug. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"PAPA?" Atlas whispered as she peeked her eyes open slightly and the figure to her left folded a newspaper, put it to one side and leaned forward.

"I'm here," John said quietly, rubbing a thumb over her forehead.

"Dad?" Atlas asked, looking at him.

"Picking Rosie up from school, then getting Sammy from his music teacher and then they're all coming here, so just me, for now, I'm afraid," John smiled.

"Papa?" She asked with wide, quiet eyes.

"Yeah?" He asked and for the first time in a while, she was surprised to see that he no longer had deep bags under his eyes. 

"You look better, anyway, can we listen to some music?" Atlas asked, looking at him.

"Your dad's going to bring your phone th-" John started.

"Yours. Your music papa. Can we listen to your music?" Atlas asked with quiet, innocent eyes. 

"Yeah, I don't see why not, but it's old," John said with a smirk.

"You have Elton John and a whole playing dedicated to him," Atlas said quietly. "So I'm happy." She slowly began to sit up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, looked at him. Getting to her feet, he stood suddenly as he looked at her.

"Alright?" He asked as she nodded. 

"I'm going to sit on the sofa but I need the loo, I'll be back in a moment," Atlas said before she disappeared. John settled on the sofa, found his playlist and just a moment later, Atlas returned. Hopping onto the sofa next to him, she tucked herself up and leaned into him as she took an offered earplug. 

"You choose," Atlas said as she nuzzled in closer to him until she was as small as she could make herself. She was surprised when he started playing "Rocket Man" and she closed her eyes, letting her imagination take it's course, going wherever it wanted to. She felt John's arm move around her back and rub her arm, holding her against him. "Bennie and the Jets" started a moment later and Atlas smiled to the immediately recognisable first few bars. 

And then "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" began to play and Atlas found herself taken right back to the coffin. Unable to breathe, unable to be heard, unable to bear the pain running through her shoulder. Sitting bolt upright, her pulse elevated and her breathing unsteady she sat forward. John stopped the music and leaned forward before forcing her head down between her knees. 

"Alright," John said quietly. "Alright, love, just breathe. Your alright." He paused and thought about it. "Do you want to talk?"

"I sang it," Atlas whispered, her voice barely audible but John was able to understand the gist. "I sang it when I was in the coffin." 

"Oh," John replied shortly before sighing. "If I'd known I would have been able to get to you sooner." 

"Papa," Atlas said sitting up to look at him. "That's just the thing, you didn't know, couldn't have known." 

"Yeah, I suppose," John whispered before he smiled at her, his fingers grasping around her wrist. "Your heart rate is slowing."

"Ok," Atlas whispered before resting her forehead against his chest, looking down to her lap.

"Alright," John whispered. "I know it's hard, but I love you, and you will get through this."

"Optimistic John," Atlas mumbled as he kept his arms around her. "I just want to go home." 

"Yep," John clipped before he looked to the door, just in time for Sherlock to slip in with Sammy, Rosie and his own and Atlas' violin case? 

"Hello," Sherlock chirped as he set the case down on the floor. "Alright?" He asked, looking to his partner with a gentle smile and nodding. 

"Yeah," Atlas sighed before she got to her feet looked and Sammy and flopped onto the bed before sitting up. "I'm so bored though." 

"Yup," Sherlock said. "Right, John, take these two off and find somewhere to eat so then me and Atlas can have a violin lesson." 

"I can't read the music dad," Atlas complained.

"So I brought your glasses," Sherlock smiled. "And besides, since when did you need your glasses to play?" Sherlock said as he watched John leave with Rosie and Sammy. Then, collecting Atlas' violin case, he placed it on the bed and put his own on the sofa. He waited, with bated breath for the click that never came. He turned to find her staring at it, her hair pulled back into an elf-like a plait. 

Moving close to the bed he sat down on the other side of her case. "Atlas," Sherlock whispered. "Open your case." 

"What if I can't play dad?" Atlas asked looking up at him then over to where he had already taken his violin out and prepared to resin up his bow. 

"You can play," Sherlock smiled. "You'll not be able to." He paused and looked at her softly. "I started teaching you at four. And you were pretty impressive when you...well..."

"When you had to let me go," Atlas smiled before she clicked open her case and picked up her violin, holding it to her chest. "Could you tune for me?" 

"It would be my pleasure," Sherlock said as he took the violin and Atlas began to tighten, then resin up her bow. 

"Your out," Atlas said as Sherlock tuned the D string before Atlas smirked at him.

"Tell me when I'm exact," he smiled before Atlas nodded at him when he was right on. He handed the violin to her and she attached the shoulder stand before finally pulling her violin up to her shoulder.

"Alright," Sherlock said as he looked at her, taking up his violin and started to play. And soon enough, Atlas was joining in and making the duet and she shared a bright smile with him. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SAMMY rested his chin on his folded arms with his eyes closed as they waited for their meal to be delivered to their table. They were at Books & Beans, by now their most favoured place to eat. He was staring at his drink of Diet Coke with a frown, clearly deep in thought. Rosie was sat next to John on the other side of the table.

"You okay?" John asked as he reached out a hand to touch Sammy's arm lightly, the boy looked at him momentarily before looking back to his drink. 

"I'm just thinking," Sammy mumbled as he watched the bubbles rise from the base of the glass. "I have to clear out the house, sell it as it's mine, figure out the money, I just, there's a lot I have to do and I don't know how to do any of it." He swallowed and looked at the glass.

"And do you know why you don't know how to do it?" John asked with a quiet, unrevealing smile. 

Sammy tilted his head. "Is that a trick question?" 

"No," John laughed. "No, the reason is that, in all simplicity, that's for the grown-ups to worry about. And the first step is sorting out guardianship if that's what you want?" 

Sammy nodded before his frown deepened.  
"But you know what would make it all easier..." He mumbled inaudibly.

"Sorry?" John said as he looked at him.

"Nothing," Sammy said.

"Well, there is something that would make it all easier," John smirked. "And I've spoken to Sherlock about this." 

"O-okay," Sammy stuttered. 

"We could," John coughed. "Adopt you." 

Sammy's head rose from his arms before he got to his feet and made his way around to John's side and hugged him. 

"Please," Sammy whispered around a lump in his throat. 

"Yeah?" John said pulling away and looking at him. 

"Yeah," Sammy nodded before he hugged him again then pulled away and sat down. "But my name...what would I do with it?" 

"What would you want to do with it?" John asked looking at the boy who stirred at his drink with a paper straw. 

"Samuel Alexander Walters Watson-Holmes," Sammy said, trying it out on his tongue. "It's quite long."

"The same length as Atlas and Sherlock's though," John smiled and Sammy nodded with a laugh.

"Well, that's true," Sammy giggled before he looked over the table. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course you can," John smiled as he looked to Rosie who was drinking her orange juice. 

"How're the rooms going to work? A-and money? And my car finance? And-and all that?" Sammy asked quickly.

"Don't worry about it," John said. "Alright? I and Sherlock will help you sort it all." 

Sammy nodded once before looking back at his glass. 

"John?" Sammy asked, straightening again.

"Yeah?" John asked.

"Can we buy Atlas a cello?" Sammy asked looking at John. "And a uke?" 

John looked at him with a soft look. "I know Mycroft is looking into a cello for her, but I think your the best person to buy her a ukulele. If you give me your card thingy, I'll transfer you." 

Sammy's face dropped and he sighed. "I..."

"Thank you," John said as they were served their panini's and Rosie her tuna sandwich. He tucked into his chicken sandwich and made the childrenswear not to tell Sherlock about it. "Alright?"

Sammy nodded once before looking at them quietly. "I don't have a card."

"A bank card?" John asked and Sammy shook his head. "How did you pay for fuel?"

"Cash," Sammy rasped as he looked at the drink again. 

"We'll sort it, Atlas is old enough for a debit card and we can get you one too. It might be handy to also get you a credit card so you can start building credit." John said with a smile. "Pay for fuel and then pay it off."

"Atlas need one soon," Sammy giggled but stopped once he saw that John wasn't laughing. "What-What's wrong?"

"I haven't told Sherlock because he holds such _high_ hopes for her," John said, before frowning. "She can't learn." 

"Oh," Sammy said quietly. "Is that because of her seizures?" 

"Yeah," John said. "Unless her seizures stop completely and they're not going to. Atlas doesn't even know but I think she does, somewhere in the back of her mind."

"She's Atlas," Sammy said quietly as he rubbed at his eyes. 

"That she is." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ALRIGHT?" Sherlock asked as he reached out a hand to touch Atlas' shoulder as she stopped playing.

"Just feeling a little sore," Atlas said as she rolled her shoulder and flexed her hand down her right side. "And a little faint." 

"Alright," Sherlock whispered. "Take a seat." He removed her violin from her grasp and set it in her case. She sat on the bed and looked at him. 

"Dad," Atlas said as he turned before dropping onto the bed beside her. 

"Atlas, sweetheart," Sherlock said as he wrapped an arm around her back in comfort. "What does my beautiful, wonderful, clever little girl require of her amazing, brilliant incredible father?" 

Atlas scoffed before she smirked and leaned against him. "Company." She paused. "My transport isn't working right." 

Sherlock giggled. "Yeah," He whispered leaning his head against her. "I love you."

"I love you too."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"HEY, John?" Sammy said as he looked over to the man in question. 

"Yeah?" John asked as he saw Sammy walking towards a music shop.

"Can I go in and buy Atlas some sheet music? It always cheers her up." Sammy said with a smile.

"I'll buy it," John smiled as he walked over and put a hand to Sammy's back. "Your right, sheet music always cheers her up. And god knows she needs it."

"And a record?" Sammy asked as they entered. 

"Alright, but check their 3 for £10 sale," John smiled as he watched Sammy head for the records selection. Rosie followed John up the stairs towards the sheet music and latched onto his hand as they entered the little, long rectangular room. It had been ages since he'd been in a music shop and he smiled as his eyes grazed over the pages of music.

"Papa?" Rosie whispered, looking up at her father expectantly.

"Yeah?" John asked as he looked down to her.

"I love you," Rosie said. "A lot." 

"Mmhm?" John smiled as he squatted down to her level, a hand on her back.

"Can we buy Atlas the soundtrack to Hamilton?" Rosie muttered as she looked at him. 

"Does she like Hamilton?" John asked, rubbing her back up and down. 

"Sure does," Sammy nodded as he entered with three second-hand vinyl. "But I also wanted to get her Bach's Solo Cello Collection which also has some violin cello duets." He said with a smile, before pausing. "If-if that's alright?"

"'Course it is. Do _you_ need any sheet music?" John asked with a gentle smile.

"N-no," Sammy said quietly before he was pulled into a hug from John.

"Are you alright?" John asked as he put a hand to the young boy's shoulder.

"I'm just sad," He shrugged.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS was sat on the bed when they walked in, with her fingertips held against her temples. Her dad could be heard giving her positive encouragement, egging her towards reaching her unused mind palace.

"I can't dad," Atlas said quietly as she shut her eyes tight. John entered, placed the shopping on the floor and watched, Sammy hot on his heels.

"You can just try a little," Sherlock chided before he offered an unseen smile.

"I am trying," Atlas complained as her right hand began to shake ever so slightly. A tremor so small that when her other hand began to also shake, no-one noticed. Or at least, no-one noticed until she removed her hands from her head and she looked at her dad. "I want to stop."

"Keep trying," Sherlock pushed before Atlas shook her head as the tremoring that had begun only in her hands, moved to both arms at the same time. Uncontrollable violent shaking that eventually had everything from the waist up shaking. Her arms were going mad and her head was moving back and forwards in little, sharp movements. 

"Alright, Atlas," John said as he looked at her concerned. She opened her mouth to speak but it was as if she couldn't and her eyes went wide. "It's alright. Sammy?" 

"I'll go get Dr Aduba," Sammy said, already knowing what would be asked of him and he disappeared.

"Christ Sherlock, you took it too far," John scolded as Sherlock looked at him. "You took it too bloody far as always." Sherlock turned and left then, just as Dr Aduba appeared with Dr Young.

"It's a tremor," Dr Young said as she came near Atlas. "Violent at that and affecting a large part of her body which is unusual, but as is the way with FND, you never quite know what the symptoms are going to be because it's so vast and complex. Alright, Atlas. I want you to try lifting your arms above your head." Dr Young smiled as Atlas, through eyes blurred with frightened tears, pulled her arms up but to no result. "Has she ever experienced a tremor like this?" 

"No," John sighed as he looked at Atlas who's head was still moving. "I don't know, the only person who'll truly know is your patient. But she's never mentioned it." 

"Right," Dr Young smiled. "Atlas, it shouldn't last too much longer, so just hang on in there. I know you can see us and hear us, just can't communicate. And I know you're scared." 

"S-s-s-s..." Atlas tried before frowning as her right arm started hitting her chest. 

"Don't try to speak," Dr Young said.

"Is it normal?" John asked, suddenly aware that his knowledge was little. "To lose speech during a tremor."

"In some cases yes, in _this_ case yes," Dr Young smiled. "This is taking up a lot of her body, brain and energy. She's going to feel extreme fatigue at the end of this." 

Atlas arms continued to shake along with her head her eyes watering before tears began to fall.

"Okay," John whispered as Dr Young moved from where she was to let him sit on the bed opposite her. "I know it's scary but I'm right here with you." 

"He-He-He-He..." Atlas tried to say again but she saw John just shake his head. 

"Alright, okay, I know, I know," John whispered as Atlas' head stopped shaking and then her left arm began to slow, until reaching a stop. Her right hand following shortly afterwards.

"Right, Atlas, just stay still a moment. If you wouldn't mind not touching her, just for a moment Dr Watson-Holmes?" Dr Young asked, looking at him.

"Of course," He smiled as Atlas frowned at him.

"Why?" She asked hoarsely. 

"Right, you're fine now." Dr Young said. "Because some patients who experience a tremor in one limb will experience another immediately after in a different limb." She paused before turning and leaving the room. 

John reached a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and she just looked at him. 

"Come here," John whispered with outstretched arms and Atlas made her way into them and made herself ever so small. She gripped at his arm tightly, the grip only loosening once he'd put his cheek to her hair. "Alright." 

"Papa," Atlas said quietly as he rubbed her back.

"Yeah, I'm right here sweetheart," John whispered rubbing her back reassuringly before she looked up at him.

"I'm going to admit, that was a little scary," Atlas whispered as she put her cheek against his chest. "I think the fact I lost a little bit of my speech was scary."

"Mmhmm," John hummed before he kissed her hair and held his nose in the smell of John Freida. "Do you need to go to sleep?"

"Yeah, but your warm and soft," Atlas mumbled against him before she pulled away and slowly lay down against the bed. John got to his feet and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and took up her hand in his own. "Your hands are warm." 

"Go to sleep sweetheart," John whispered as he reached out a hand to brush the hair off her forehead, his eyes on her. His eyes moved quickly up and over to the door as Sherlock knocked. He looked as though he had been crying. 

"Dad," Atlas asked, reaching out a hand to him before he came over.

"I'm sorry Atlas, I'm sorry," Sherlock whispered as held her hand in both of his. He rubbed it gently. Atlas just looked at him, with a little frown that made her seem even more childlike than what she already was. 

"S'alright," Atlas whispered as Sherlock smiled at her from where he was seated next to John. 

"It's not, but thank you," Sherlock smiled. 

John gave a little smile before resting his temple against Sherlock's shoulder. Atlas' eyes began to close and soon enough she entered a gentle sleep. 

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked John quietly, rubbing at his shoulder. 

"I'm just tired, that's all." John whispered and he paused. "We didn't even get to give her her new records and sheet music." 

"You bought her some?" Sherlock asked as he held John to him. 

"Yes," John smiled. "And bought Sammy some, you know what they're like." 

"I just wish that Atlas would get better," Sherlock whispered before John lifted his head and looked at him.

"She is getting better but they're just finding out what all her symptoms are," John whispered. "I'm sorry for shouting at you earlier, that was unfair." He kissed Sherlock gently and rested a hand against his cheek, swiping under his eye with his thumb. 

Sherlock just nodded slowly. "I don't mind." 

"Oh Sherlock, you _should_ mind," John whispered. "You deserve better than that." 

"You know," Sherlock said. "She looks smaller everyday. And I get more and more scared everyday and it's a pain." He swallowed. "Right here." He put his hand against his chest. "Is she going to live? Is she going to die? If she survives, what's her quality of life going to be? Like the day she was born and she didn't cry. And she didn't breathe and then-then Mary-Anne says that we're giving her up. But I stop her and I take Atlas home whilst she's off doing god knows what and I feed her on formula and sing songs and play my fiddle and rock her. And then her first seizure." Sherlock looks to the ceiling with tears in his eyes. "At twenty two months old and thank God it was me and her. Thank god her mother wasn't at home. I remember running to the hospital with her little body, her trousers wet because stupid, stupid Sherlock left her with her mother that morning and Mary-Anne never put her in a nappy. And then she was soaked because of the seizure and I remember sitting in the hospital, holding her to my chest as they sit there and tell me that they don't know the cause. But that they know it's not epilepsy. And then it happens again and again and then one day when she's four years old," Sherlock bites back a sob and looks at John calculatedly. "She's at home with her mother and I'm not there. She has one," He looks back to the ceiling. "And she falls to the floor, has a seizure and wets herself 'cause you know..." John nodded, he did know. "And her mother sees the floor and tries to find her and at this point, Atlas is so scared and she's hiding under the table. And I walk in to see Mary-Anne crouching and looking under the table trying to reach Atlas who just skitters out the other side into my legs in a mass of sobs."

"What did Mary-Anne do to Atlas?" John asked quietly and Sherlock just shook his head.

"She hit her," Sherlock whispered looking away from John. "And I could never get there quick enough. I could never get to her in time, ever. But then sometimes she would hit me." He paused. "And that was always better than her hitting Atlas but of course that even scared her." He paused again. 

"Oh Sherlock," John whispered as he put his hand in his curls. "I'm sorry I hit you that time."

"Stop apologising about that," Sherlock whispered. "You've only done that and well...um...sometimes...she...well...you've always made sure I want to."

"Did she rape you, Sherlock?" John asked quietly and Sherlock just nodded before he sobbed and John held his husband against him. "Oh Sherlock."

"It's how we had Atlas. We didn't want children but now I can't imagine my life without her." Sherlock sobbed as he put his nose against John's neck. 

"And I can't either," John said with a smile. "I will never, ever, do that to you Sherlock. And I won't hit you, okay? That's not who I am."

"John, love, that was so long ago," Sherlock whispered. "Remind me not to say love again." 

"Your beautiful," John whispered. "And I'm so proud of you for looking after Atlas the way you did. For caring for her, for never giving up." Before Sherlock rested his forehead against John's forehead and closed his eyes. "And all that you've ever done, are all the reasons I love you. Giving her violin lessons from her bed and just being you, for being the kind ever loving... _you."_

There was a quiet tap at the door and they could see Sammy, holding Rosie up his front as she slept. Jeff held clumsily in his free hand as he came into the room. 

"I thought I'd bring her by," Sammy whispered before he came over. "We miss her." He looked over to Atlas. "All the time."

"She's only been in a few days," Sherlock smiled.

"Yeah, but...well..." Sammy stuttered. "It's everything. The music jam outs that we have. The society meetings."

"Books," Rosie mumbled. "Her stories." 

"And that even when she's at home, she's upset and sad and she's just not her," Sammy said quietly. "And it makes me so sad." 

"We know it does," John said before Sammy sat down on a chair with Rosie who eventually hopped off his lap before climbing quietly onto the bed next to Atlas and lying next to her. "Careful, sweetheart." John whispered.

"I know," Rosie whispered back as she snuggled into Atlas and Sammy laid a blanket over her. 

"Rosie always makes Atlas happy," Sammy smiled as he crossed his legs, pulled out a book and held it. 

"I went to the house," Sammy said after some time had passed. "Looked at the stuff. Don't think I want any of it." 

"Tommorow afternoon," Sherlock whispered, looking at him. "You and me will go together, alright?" 

"You don't have to," Sammy said.

"Let me," Sherlock smiled before nodding to Sammy with a smile. "Atlas is tired a lot at the moment."

"What happened earlier?" Sammy asked semi-urgently, with a frown on his features. 

"She had a tremor start up, sometimes called a shaking attack." John informed with a frown. "Her limbs were shaking."

"Yeah," Sammy nodded with an equally matched frown. "Well, I suppose you two should know that I am anaemic and don't like tomatoes very much."

"Yup," Sherlock sighed with a smirk. "Alright, I know that already."

"Of course you do," Sammy giggled as he looked at Sherlock. 

"You also don't care for mango either," Sherlock smiled.

"Yeah," Sammy smiled quietly. "You know," he started. "I miss my mum." 

"Of course you do," Sherlock said as he lifted an arm and Sammy slipped in. 

"I don't even know what I'm doing with them," Sammy whispered against Sherlock.

"Have the solicitors spoken about your mothers will to you?" Sherlock asked and Sammy shook his head.

"They won't unless I have an adult present," Sammy said quietly.

"Do you - don't feel like you have to - do you want me or John to be there?" Sherlock asked as Sammy pulled away, looked at him and nodded.

"Please," Sammy whispered. 

"Do you want to do that tommorow? Seeing as we're looking at the house aswell." Sherlock said as he rubbed at the young boy's shoulder. 

"Yeah," Sammy whispered before he shut his eyes before Sherlock and John exchanged a look with one another. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS took a while before she woke up and when she did, she was greeted by Sherlock's face opposite hers.

"Hello," Atlas whispered to him and he stroked her hair. 

"I'm just about to leave with Sammy, love," Sherlock smiled. "Mycroft and the rest are coming by this evening to see you and we'll be home. I spoke to the doctors and they said you'll be allowed a little bit of takeaway pizza and we'll just have a bit of fun. Alright?"

"Yeah, where's Rosie going?" Atlas asked quietly.

"To stay with Mycroft and Eurus today," Sherlock smiled before he kissed her forehead and left the room.


	48. Is it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

ATLAS looked at John with a weak smile as she lay on the bed, her hand in his. But something was stirring in her stomach and she sat up quiet quickly. 

"Hey," John said putting a hand to her back as she looked at him.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Atlas whispered before John grabbed a hold of the basin and shoved it against her. There was a pause before John grabbed a hair bobble and tied her hair with poor practice - it was normally Sherlock's occupation. Dr Aduba came in to the room and looked at her before she threw up into the basin again and again and again and again. Her eyelids beginning to shut as she tried to stay awake.

"Have you got any pain?" Dr Aduba asked. 

"All over," Atlas whispered to him with tears in her eyes.

"Okay, rate it from 1 to 10. 1 being manageable and 10 being unbearable," Dr Aduba smiled but Atlas just shook her head. 

"I don't want to," Atlas whispered before John just rubbed her back.

"John, could you give us a moment?" Dr Aduba asked with serious eyes. "To run some tests? Verbal ones, she's more likely to be truthful if your not in our presence."

"Alright," John said getting to his feet before Atlas stretched out some fingers to him. Oustretched and urgent. "I'll be back in a moment." John smiled as he moved to the door.

"Pa," Atlas rasped as Atlas sat up and swung her legs over the bed. And then she got to her feet, swaying slightly. "Papa, wait." 

Another doctor, a more senior member, came into the room at that moment. "We need to run tests, ask you questions, your father needs to leave the room." 

"No," Atlas whimpered as she put a food to walk forward but found herself jerking backwards as it pulled on her IV. She turned and looked at the wall.

"Miss Watson-Holmes, your case is developing, we need to hav-" The doctor said touching her arm, his white beard reflecting. 

"Don't touch me!" She screamed at him backing up against the wall. 

"Miss Wats-" The doctor tried again. 

"Let me go," Atlas whimpered. "Please stop touching me." 

"Alright," John said filling the gap between his daughter and the doctor. "Enough, ask her the questions later. She's in pain right now, and this," he said gesturing to the room. "Is not going to help her and it's scaring her. It's _triggering_ for her so just stop. Leave her be."

"Father's wishes," Dr Aduba supplied helpfully as the older doctor glared at him before leaving. 

"Alright?" John asked looking at Atlas and when no reply came he asked "Are you alright?" 

"I'm still sore," She offered quietly. "But can I have a hug?" 

"Course you can, sweetheart," John said quietly, the kindness of it calming and nice. And he _smelled_ nice. "Aside from the pain, are you ok?"

"No," She whispered. "I just...I don't like it much when strangers touch me...I've never mentioned it before but yeah..."

"But you were fine with me when I first met you?" John supplied. 

"Because dad trusted you," Atlas whispered before she pulled away and sat down on the bed, Dr Aduba re-entering the room.

"I'm going to dose you with morphine to help alleviate it a little," Dr Aduba smiled before ordering the nurse who had entered with him to do so. He looked to John. "Dr Watson." 

"Uhh, yes?" John asked, furrowing his brows. 

"Now, my experience with this is not frequent. However, yours is." Dr Aduba said with a chart poised in his hands.

"No, not children," John said with a small smile. "A GP."

"An army medic who has encountered the common side effects of severe pain," Dr Aduba said with kind eyes before John nodded.

"I do," John nodded quietly as he looked at Dr Aduba. 

"So sit with her till the morphine kicks in," Dr Aduba said again but John just nodded.

"Didn't have morphine on the battlefield, not really," John said before he hopped over and sat where Dr Aduba had been sat. "And I'm here Atlas." 

"Papa," Atlas whispered as she rested her forehead against him. 

"Right here," John whispered. 

"I miss dad," Atlas said quietly. "He doesn't hug me much." She paused. "Or not as much as you do."

"Hmm," John mumbled. "Does that make you sad?" 

"Yeah," Atlas whispered.

"Do you want a day with him tommorow?" John asked.

"No," Atlas whispered. "I want you both here." She paused. "Unless you need to leave." She spoke again, pulling away as he shook his head.

"Nope," he smiled. "Nowhere else is much more important."

"Thank you," Atlas whispered before she sagged against him.

"I'm guessing it's kicked in now?" John asked as Atlas looked him and touched his face, the patch under his eye he always itched. "Yeah, taking that as a yes." 

Atlas just nodded before pulling away and lying down against the mattress and under the covers. John came around and sat on a chair by her bed and held her hand. Silence.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK opened the door to the house and looked at Sammy with a calculated nod. "Alright?" He asked as he saw Sammy's glazed eyes.

"No," Sammy whispered. "But I have to." 

"Okay," Sherlock said back. "Just tell me if it's too much and we'll go...yeah?" 

Sammy nodded and followed Sherlock into the entryway of the small semi-detatched. Sherlock rubbed his feet and looked into the small house.

"Where do you want to start?" Sherlock asked with a small smile. 

"I don't know," Sammy started but then, he went around the corner into the kitchen with a sigh. He looked at it all, the cupboards, the table, the cookie jar where himself and Georgia would put cookies. Then with shoulders high and hunched he plucked a picture Georgia had drawn off the fridge with a frown, Sherlock hanging back at the door. "I should get a bag to put various things in." 

Sherlock brandished a duffle bag from home and Sammy giggled.

"Where were you hiding that?" Sammy asked.

"I have my ways," Sherlock smiled before Sammy tucked the picture away in one of the side pockets. Sherlock squeezed his shoulder as Sammy went into the living room with his permanent frown stained face. He walked in, glanced around, before he exited and began to climb the stairs. 

"Uhm, Sherlock," Sammy whispered as the other man stayed at the bottom of the stairs. "Can you come with me?"

"Are you sure? John always says I shouldn't intrude," Sherlock said, looking up to him.

"I want you to," Sammy whispered before Sherlock nodded and climbed the stairs, following him into his room. 

"I've spoken to John, Sam." Sherlock said entering the room. He smiled at the cream walls covered in photos, records, posters and artwork. Slowly, Sherlock walked up and looked at the artwork with a smile. "These are amazing." 

"Oh," Sammy said looking up as he packed away some acrylics, watercolours and paintbrushes. "I-I drew them. And that one," he made his way around the bed and pointed to a big painting on a canvas with lots of sky swirls and mountains that looked truly amazing. "Me and Atlas worked on one time she came for an overnight visit. Georgia helped us with the stars."

"You two are amazing when you work together," Sherlock smiled as he unhooked it. "Would you be alright if I hung it up on the wall on the music landing above the sofa, under the fairy lights?" 

"Yeah, that would be nice," Sammy smiled.

"Good," Sherlock smiled before Sammy walked to the dresser with a frown. "Most your stuff is with us already."

"But not the photos," Sammy whispered as he picked up a photo of himself, his mother, Georgia and his dad and his....CAT!!! "Mou? Mou!" 

"Sammy?" Sherlock asked as he watched Sammy search around his room frantically. 

"Cat. I have a cat. She's called Mou. A fluffy black and white...thing...she's very independent and we had a neighbour popping in to top up her thing and I forgot about her." Sammy said as he lay on his stomach and looked under the bed. "I'd have mentioned her earlier but I just got so caught up." 

Sherlock looked around the room, noted that the cupboard was slightly ajar, pulled it open and pulled out a very sad looking, blue eyed cat. "This her?" 

"Mou!" Sammy exclaimed collecting the cat and hugging it to his chest. 

"How old is she?" Sherlock asked with a gentle smile.

"Seven," Sammy replied quickly before he frowned. "Spose I need to find someone to look after her." 

"Hey," Sherlock said with a smile. "Did I say that?"

"No," Sammy said quietly.

"Redbeard seemed to get along alright with Jem, Mrs Hudson's cat." Sherlock said gently. "And I'm partial to animals." He stroked at Mou's ears and she purred. "Do you have a cage?" 

"Yeah, could you?" Sammy asked as he held up the cat to Sherlock who took her with a smile. "Her cage, bedding, toys, food etc. Is all downstairs. Can I go chuck them into the car?" 

"Go ahead, me and Mou will have a conversation," Sherlock smiled before nodding at Sammy who turned and left. "Now Mou, you and me are going to be friends." The cat looked at him before it rubbed it's cheek against his shirt. "Oh, oh thank you. Your lovely aren't you?" He paused. "Now, your owner is very upset at the moment." Quietly, Sammy appeared outside the door and just waited to hear what else Sherlock was going to say. "And he needs you to be his friend because his friend can't be there for him and she wants to be. And I need you to make sure he never feels alone, because I want to help but I don't know how. He's part of our family now." Sherlock looked to the door. "If he's ready, we are. We can decorate his room, he can have the spare one, although he might have to give it up when guests come or Atlas can. A rota! That's what we'll have." 

"Yeah," Sammy said, smiling as he appeared and he placed the transportation crate on the floor. "I think I should take this photo." He said collecting it and putting it in the duffel. "You can put her in the cage." 

"Okay," Sherlock said as he placed her in the cage but not before kissing her head and placing her in it. "Where to next?" 

"Georgia's room, I have something I want to collect," Sammy said as Sherlock followed him into the room which was purple walls and butterflies. "She wasn't like Rosie, but she has a few things that I think Rosie will like."

"If you sure?" Sherlock asked and Sammy nodded. 

"Some pastels, paper for them and..." He was seen scrabbling in the cupboard for something until suddenly he pulled out a huge panda soft toy. "And this." He paused. "Georgia never touched it...ever." He paused again. "And Rosie, she's my family now, and she'll love it."

"She will," Sherlock nodded. "Do you need anything else?" 

"My mum's room," The young boy said, looking to the door. "Would you mind if I do it alone?" 

"Please," Sherlock nodded with a weak smile. "Do you want me to stay here or in the car?" 

"Uhmm," Sammy mumbled. "Put Mou in the car and then I'll meet you in the living room?"

"Of course," Sherlock smiled before he left. 

Sammy walked in, slowly, so slowly and carefully. And when he made it inside, he was afraid and sad and... _not_ alone? With a small smiled he made is way around the room, collecting her perfume and holding it up to his nose he took a gentle sniff and looked back around the room. And then, with a frown, he put it down and looked back. Her scarf, her _favourite_ scarf was sitting on the chair next to her bed. And he suddenly remembered her being so pissed that she'd left it behind. Collecting it from the chair it was as if he was sinking and he pulled it to his chest. Sitting down on the chair he tucked his chin to his chest and held the scarf up. His eyes welled up, his eyes went blurry and he wrapped his arms around himself and let out a little sob. And then another and another before he got to his feet picked up the book off the bedside table and threw it against the wall. 

"Fuck you!" He screamed as he picked up another book and threw it again. "Fuck you! Why'd you do that!? I needed you! Fuck you! Fuck you!"

"Sammy," Sherlock said entering before he watched the boy screamed and walked to the wall and started to pound it, hard yelling. Walking over, Sherlock, wrapped his arms around the boy from behind as he yelled. "Sammy, your alright." He soothed before Sammy stopped and turned into Sherlock's hug.

"Alright," Sherlock whispered. "Alright." He came close and kissed his hair, resting his cheek. 

"I love you," Sammy whispered.

"I love you too," Sherlock whispered. "Anything you need, ever. You ask me and John, okay?"

"You don't have to do that," Sammy sobbed against Sherlock. 

"Of course we do," Sherlock whispered. "Your a Watson-Holmes now Samuel Alexander Walters." 

"Thank you," Sammy whispered. "Can we go see At now?" 

"Yeah," Sherlock laughed, kissing his hair again. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

MYCROFT and Eurus bustled in quietly with Rosie and of course Jeff. John had since fallen asleep, leaning against the chair with his hand in hers, the other arm over his chest.  
Eurus walked over and leant down and shook the older man gently and when he awoke he looked surprised. Then, after some time, his eyes softened. 

"Papi," Rosie whispered before she climbed into his lap, put her legs either side of his lap and lay up the front of it, like she had with Sherlock many times before. Her temple against his chest, his hand resting reassuringly on her back. 

"Hey Ro," John smiled, looking down at her hair. "I was going to pop out for some coffee, do you want to come with me and get a drink?" 

"Yeah," Rosie said before climbing off his lap and pulling him by his hand. Latching onto Eurus at the same time and leading her through and out the room.

A few moments later and Atlas blinked her eyes open. 

"Myc," Atlas whispered.

"Yeah, it's me," he whispered, rubbing his forehead. 

"Is it cancer?" Atlas asked, with sad eyes.

"No," Mycroft laughed. "Your not dying from cancer." 

"No," Atlas said. "Not me..." She steeled herself. "I remember the lodge and your headaches that you told no-one about and now...your face. So I ask again Uncle Mycroft, is it cancer?"

"No," Mycroft sighed. "Your too bloody clever. I just get bloody migraines all the time and they never seem to get the medication right."

"Oh," Atlas said before she gave a little giggle that turned very quickly into hot tears. "Oh Uncle Mycroft."

"What's wrong?" He asked urgently, sitting down.

"I thought you were dying," Atlas whispered before she wrapped her arms around him and lay her ear against his chest.

"Sorry to disappoint," Mycroft whispered. "I'm guessing this all just becoming a little overwhelming. Am I right?" 

Atlas nodded before the tears ebbed and she looked up at him. "Your hands always smell nice."

"Thank you," Mycroft smirked before he put a hand in his right blazer pocket and brandished a little squeeze bottle of hand cream. "Now, don't laugh."

"I wasn't going to," Atlas whispered as he took her right hand in his own and, with a little bit of hand cream rubbed between his palms, he began to massage at the skin. 

"Are your hands sore, Ida?" Mycroft asked as he worked on her palm. 

"A little, yeah," Atlas whispered as he moved onto the joints in her thumb, rubbing with an expert hand. "Mycroft."

"Yes?" He asked as he worked over her other fingers. 

"Thank you," Atlas said quietly with a small, growing smile. 

"For?" He asked.

"Being a good uncle I guess," Atlas giggled as he tickled her palm. "I love you."

"Oh, Ida, I love you too." Mycroft said proudly, as he began to rub the other hand. "I'll always look after you too."

"I know," Atlas said back with a pretty smile and light in her eyes. "Just like you looked after dad."

"I didn't look after your father, he was just in need of some company," Mycroft said quietly.

"But you did, didn't you? You helped him when he was being Sherlock and you've been there to rescue him _every single time."_ Atlas said with a small smile and smirk. 

"I suppose I did and do," Mycroft said as he massaged her other hand, Sammy and Sherlock walking in. 

"Hello!" Atlas exclaimed as Mycroft moved away and Atlas hugged Sammy closely. "Will you sit with me?" She asked, shuffling over on the bed to make room for Sammy to take up a space. 

"Of course," Sammy whispered as he hopped on. "Also, we have a cat now." 

"Mou!" Atlas exclaimed with a giggle whilst Sammy nodded, jumping onto the mattress.

"Now, Atlas," Sherlock smiled. "On our way home we got some houmous, carrot sticks, fruit and..." Sherlock said, tilting his head and fumbling in the bag for something. "Walnuts!" He exclaimed brandishing the bad and handing them over to her.

"Oh, thank you dad," Atlas smiled as he kissed her forehead and sat down on a chair. "Papa-"

"Is right here," the man in question said, appearing with Rosie who had orange juice, two cups of coffee in their reusable containers and Eurus at the back with another two cups of coffee. "Thought you'd arrived by now." John smiled as he handed Sherlock a cup of coffee and kissed him softly. 

"Ro," Sherlock said as she came over to him. "I bought some fruit, do you want some?" She nodded, sucking her bottom lip with her teeth. "Stop sucking your lip, sweetheart." Rosie pushed her lip out and smiled at him. 

"Why?" Rosie asked with light and wonder for her father shining in her eyes. 

"Because, it might push your teeth forward and then you might need braces, and trust me, we should try to avoid that one." Sherlock smirked. 

"Okay," She whispered, nodding.

"Apple, grapes, raspberries or a mix pot?" Sherlock asked already knowing her answer.

"Some wasberries," she answered. The favourite fruit seemingly much more appetising as Sherlock took them out the bag, and then filled a plastic container he had brought with some of the fruit. "Thank you, dad." Rosie said before she walked over to John and climbed into his lab. 

By this time, Atlas had drifted off to sleep on the bed, her head lolling to rest on Sammy's shoulder. "How's she been today?" The youngest man in the room asked, looking down on her hair with a softness in her eyes.

"Not too great," John replied. "She was a bit sick this morning." 

"Why?" Rosie asked around a mouthful of raspberries, looking up at him on his lap.

"Because she was in quite a lot of pain," John said quietly as he looked at her face that was silent against the blond boys shoulder. 

"Why?" Rosie asked against and John just held her to his chest. 

"Because of the thing that Atlas has that makes her ill," John replied as Rosie just nodded. 

"Better now?" Rosie asked after a moment or two.

"Yes," John said with a small smile before he kissed the crown of her head. 

"Good," Rosie replied before she put Jeff on top of his head before removing him. "Papa, can you do my hair like an elf?" 

"I'm not any good at hair," John provided and Rosie frowned. 

"I'll do it," Sammy said as Rosie beamed at him. Rosie jumped off John's lap as Sammy wriggled away from Atlas who, thankfully was doped up on morphine, remained asleep. Sammy sat down in a chair and began one of the plaits. "Hair bobbles?" Sammy said, offering an outstretched hand which Rosie deposited them into.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS went home two days later, thank god, and to everyone's delight, she was in a good bill of health. And, a week after that, found all five of them standing in a Craghoppers looking a mix of bemused and amused. 

"Right," John said, popping his head up from behind some child size waterproofs. "Rosie, love, come over here. Sherlock, could you take those two over to look at some more waterproofs. Heavy enough to be durable but light enough to carry in a rucksack." 

"Yes, captain," Sherlock saluted with a smirk before he lead Atlas and Sammy over to the male adult jackets. 

"Right," John said, squatting down to Rosie's height and helping her into a pink waterproof with a smile. He zipped up the front and noticed that Rosie was wearing a frown. "What's up, sweetheart?" 

"Pink's ew," Rosie whispered before John smiled and removed the coat from her shoulders and exchanged it for a yellow one. 

"Is this better?" He asked and Rosie nodded as she put it on and smiled at it. 

"Thank you, papa," The young girl smiled before John nodded at her.

"Alright, pumpkin," John smiled before he took the coat from her and went over to help Sherlock who was helping Sammy look at coats but Atlas wasn't there. He spotted her, trying coats on at the other side of the shop. "Find one, Atlas?" 

"Yeah," Atlas smiled at him as she brandished it to show him. 

"Good job," John smiled as he looked at the blue almost purple coat. "We need walking boots too, but we're going to go to 'Blacks' around the corner."

"Okay," Atlas said before she walked over and swung her arms around Sammy's neck. He jumped before smirking. 

"We found a waterproof for Sammy," Sherlock smiled. 

"Now, Sherlock Watson-Holmes," John smiled. "You need one too, and don't lie, I know you do." John added as Sherlock's mouth open and closed. "And while we are, you two could do well to go look at a rucksack for Atlas, women's fit, 40L, Rosie won't need one because you two will carry for her if she's with us and then if you make a decision, can you go look for walking boots for all three of you. Me and your dad already have pairs and rucksacks."

"Yup," Sammy said before Rosie gravitated to his hand and they walked towards the walking boots.

This was going to be an amazing adventure.

_"Watch out Scotland, I'm coming home."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no hope for this country or any country.
> 
> Next chapter is last in this book.
> 
> I know it's a rushed ending, but this section stopped going anywhere.


	49. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruh, I ain't no psychologist.

**Meeting with Ida Atlas Elizabeth Watson-Holmes after her recent release from hospital. I am working with the hospital to also help her go through CBT as part of the therapy she needs to undertake.**

DR FIONA HARPER: _Good afternoon, Atlas, it's nice to see you again._

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _Nice to see you again too._

DR FIONA HARPER: _How have you been since you returned from hospital?_

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _Touch and go._

(Patient coughs and holds her arm to her stomach.) 

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _Sometimes I have good days, and sometimes I have bad, both physically and mentally._

DR FIONA HARPER: _Would you like to tell me why the bad days are bad?_

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _The pain makes days feel longer and sometimes I just curl up in bed and will the world away. The noise and just about everything. Hell, I'd even wish my family away if it would stop...(Patient pauses for a moment.) I'm learning to deal with it though, that and the shaking. The seizures are slowing thanks to the medication, but...yeah...the shaking...it's alright when it's just in one limb but when it's in two or more and I have no control that hurts. And when my head goes...yeah...and it really scares Rosie and Sammy and my family and I just with that it would all stop._

(I prevent myself from interrupting, it seems Atlas has been holding a lot of this emotion back.) 

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _I hate the way it makes me feel so guilty but I can't control any of it...I-I know that...I do. But it's all so fucked up and complicated...Sorry, I shouldn't have sweared...You know, it's just frustrating._

DR FIONA HARPER: _I understand...Have you considered joining a support group, either here in London or online?_

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _No, um, I haven't._

DR FIONA HARPER: _I can suggest a few._

(I scribble a few down on some paper, Atlas seems intrigued, I believe she will follow through.)

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _I think the worst part is the fatigue. Being tired all the time...But, there's more to life than my FND and I have to focus on the positives like the fact that Sammy's cat Mou is staying with us. A-and that Redbeard is nearly four and so many other brilliant things._

DR FIONA HARPER: _It's good to focus on the positives but just make sure that you don't forget that you are allowed to be upset no matter how many things are going right...Now, I would like to talk to you about something other than your FND or recent health scare with the poisoning. How do you feel?_

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _About what?_

DR FIONA HARPER: _Anything you so choose._

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _Well, I'm excited to go to Scotland. We're doing a little bit of a tour which I'm looking forward to and walking, packing up the roof rack and our five door black land-rover and heading for the hills. And I'm so happy about my dads being married and that Mycroft's headaches are not the cancer I was suspecting...I don't know...strip away the FND...And life is remarkably good, obviously sometimes having two male parents has it's challenges._

DR FIONA HARPER: _How do you find having two male parents a challenge?_

ATLAS WATSON-HOLMES: _I can talk about periods and all that and they try to understand but they're guys...they just can't. And I love them, I really do and they're trying but sometimes I'm scared. Scared of losing them. And I've gone of track but I have something I need to get out...I'm scared, Fiona, scared of being like my mother. Of becoming the abusive, destructive person she was. And I never talk about her...or-or what she did to me and my dad...and I was so young I wiped it...didn't know trauma could do that...but...well...here I am...I'm afraid. And this life is so boringly wonderful sometimes and so, so often, I find that it's full of fallen kings and the same old things._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. 
> 
> You can follow Atlas' story in the next book of the series "Mountains, Hills and Dusty Windowsills." 
> 
> See you soon! 
> 
> Thank you for the support. 
> 
> As always,
> 
> Newra


End file.
